


there was a star danced

by elesssar



Series: Stagelight 'verse [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (very) mild angst, Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Parties, Underage Drinking, Very fluffy, also contains ice skating, ironically enough, those tags make it sound quite gritty its not i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9850934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elesssar/pseuds/elesssar
Summary: Their school production of Romeo & Juliet may be over, but Yuuri and Viktor’s relationship is not. In fact, it is only just beginning. Sure, there may be some hiccups along the way (Yuuri’s doubts, Viktor’s secrets, and a certain little screw-up involving too much vodka) but all’s well that ends well … right?





	1. monday & change

Yuuri, like many people, is not overly fond of Mondays. They signify the end of the free days of the weekend, and herald another five days of confinement in school. Phichit on the other hand loves them – he says they’re ripe with opportunities and the perfect time to start over with everything. He is definitely the exception rather than the rule.

This particular Monday, Yuuri is experiencing a unique difficulty. After the blissful weekend following production, spent entirely with Viktor as they revelled in their new relationship, Yuuri finds is now faced with reality. He isn’t quite sure what to do with the prospect. Will things be different at school now? Everything has changed, and yet at the same time nothing has. The dissonance is dizzying.

He dawdles until Mari yells at him that they will be late. On the way to school asks him why he’s acting so weird. Yuuri just shrugs, looks out the window at the rainy sky, and replies: “Mondays.”

He hasn’t told his friends yet, about what happened after the show on Friday. Viktor says there’s been radio silence from Chris as well. Yuuri is inclined to think this is a little ominous, but Viktor had shrugged it off.

“It’s only Chris,” he had said, “he just wants to do something dramatic about it.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Yuuri had replied dryly.

It’s not that he’s nervous to tell his friends, or that he doesn’t want them to know – it’s just that it’s too fresh still, too unknown and private and he wants to keep it to himself for just a little while longer. But he knows that’s not really possible. Phichit would murder him for keeping secrets if he even tried.

When he walks into form class – on time by some miracle – Guang-Hong is the only one there. He’s sitting with his legs crossed, eating a breakfast burrito and reading something on his phone. He waves it at Yuuri in greeting as Yuuri dumps his bag and sits down next to him.

“Hey,” he says once he’s swallowed his mouthful, “how was your weekend?”

“It was…really good,” Yuuri says. He is fighting a losing battle against the smile that just won’t stop creeping onto his face.

“That’s good!” says Guang-Hong, “how the post-show depression?”

“It’s not bad,” Yuuri says – here is an opening to break the news. “I don’t miss it as much as I might have done…”

Guang-Hong side-eyes him. Yuuri bites his lip and watches his friends face as Guang-Hong tries to work it out. Slowly, his friend pivots on his chair to face him.

“Elaborate, please,” he says, looking like all his Christmases have come at once and he can’t quite believe it’s happened.

“Mmn,” Yuuri presses his face into his hands, “Phichit was right, I guess?”

“About what?” Guang-Hong presses.

“…about Viktor…”

“Eee!” Guang-Hong throws his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders and shakes him back and forth, “tell me tell me tell me! Stop being so mysterious, Yuuri!”

“Let go,” Yuuri writhes away, laughing, but Guang-Hong stays attached.

“No,” he says, “I won’t let go until you tell me everything! I need this information in explicit detail, Yuuri, or I won’t believe you!”

“Garf!” Yuuri says into Guang-Hong’s shoulder, “Viktor and I hooked up during the last scene of the show and spent the weekend together and now we’re a thing!” he says, very quickly.

Guang-Hong makes a choking, screeching noise, and very nearly succeeds in knocking them both out of their chairs and into the window behind them.

“Why are you strangling Yuuri, G?” a new voice asks. Leo and Phichit have appeared. Guang-Hong opens his mouth. Yuuri snakes a hand out and claps it lightly over his friend’s mouth.

“Mmn-phmn,” Guang-Hong makes an offended noise.

“Release me,” Yuuri says. Guang-Hong does so.

As soon as Yuuri removes his hand, Guang-Hong tries again.

“Yuuri and –”

“Not so loud!” Yuuri hisses, “I don’t want _everyone_ to know!”

“Yuuri, everyone’s going to know _anyway_ ,” Guang-Hong points out, “it’s going to be pretty obvious.”

“I’m good at subtlety,” Yuuri points out. Guang-Hong snorts politely.

“ _You_ may be,” he says, “but _he’s_ not.”

“Wait, wait,” Phichit says urgently. He pulls out his chair, kneels on it, and then leans across the table, “are you two talking about what I _think_ you’re talking about?”

“Please tell me you are!” Leo says. He clasps his hands underneath his chin and turns his eyes skyward, “please, please, _please_ tell me you are!”

“I dunno,” Yuuri says wickedly, “what _do_ you think we’re talking about?”

Before Phichit can reply, the bell rings and Coach Celestino starts calling the roll. Phichit lapses into silence. His hands are knotted in front of his mouth, and he keeps sending Guang-Hong and Yuuri desperate glances. Guang-Hong giggles into his collar. Yuuri just bites his lip over a smile and stays silent.

They do not share first period classes, and Yuuri refuses to tell Leo in their second class without Phichit and Guang-Hong to hear the details, so it is not until morning tea at the fire escape that Yuuri’s desperate friends at last get to hear the news.

“Tell me!” Phichit throws his backpack at Yuuri as soon as he rounds the corner. Yuuri dodges it neatly and it goes flying into the bush instead.

“You were right,” he tells Phichit with a grin.

“About what, specifically?”

“About – argh,” he rubs his hands down his face and pulls down at his cheeks, “about Viktor having a crush on me!”

“Ha! I’m a genius!” Phichit pumps his fists in the air.

“Tell us more!” Leo presses. He straddles the bench next to Yuuri without even bothering to take his bag off of his back.

So Yuuri tells them the whole story about Friday – about his and Viktor’s arguments, about the kiss under the risers, and about the conversation that they had in the car afterwards, where Viktor had outright asked if Yuuri wanted him to be his boyfriend. Guang-Hong has his hands beneath his chin the whole time, his smile so bright it could probably power a small town. Leo flings himself off the bench again and starts jumping around in celebration with Phichit before Yuuri has even finished talking.

“I’m so happy for you, Yuuri!” Guang-Hong has to yell to be heard over Phichit and Leo’s triumphant war cries.

“Thanks,” Yuuri says, and then beams, “I’m happy for me too!”

When he thinks about it – _really_ thinks about it – it still doesn’t feel real. Just a few months ago, Viktor didn’t even know Yuuri existed, and now…

Yuuri presses his hands to his face, and his friends aww at him.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me immediately,” Phichit says. His arms are crossed, but he’s grinning widely.

“Sorry,” Yuuri shrugs, “I just wanted to keep it between me and Viktor. Just for a little while, you know?”

“That’s fair enough,” Leo says sympathetically.

“Anyway,” Phichit says with a grin, “what are you going to give me?”

“Huh?”

“I totally called it!” Phichit crows, “I _knew_ he was into you! Do I get a reward?”

The civil conversation devolves into mock arguments and scuffling.

When Viktor comes around the corner looking for Yuuri, he finds him squashed underneath Guang-Hong and Leo, whilst Phichit films a ‘Yuuri-shaming’ video on Snapchat.

“Wow,” Viktor blinks down at them all, “am I missing something here?”

“Yes,” Yuuri says, “my friends are awful and I need to be rescued.”

“Damsel in distress, huh?” Viktor says. His tie is loose as usual, but he doesn’t have his bag with him.

“Sorry to interrupt your fun,” he says, “but I do actually want to talk to Yuuri.”

Phichit wolf whistles. Viktor grins at him. Yuuri extracts an arm from underneath Guang-Hong’s butt with some difficulty, and flips off Phichit’s camera.

“Wow, rude,” Phichit pretends to be hurt as Leo and Guang-Hong finally scramble off of Yuuri and help him up. Yuuri follows Viktor to the stairs a few metres away, out of earshot of his friends. For a moment, they just stare at each other. Every time Yuuri sees Viktor now, he feels like his heart will seize up with happiness. He traces Viktor’s face with his eyes, follows his arms down to his elegant hands, which are unfortunately hidden in his blazer pockets this morning.

“What’s up?” Yuuri asks eventually.

“Huh? Oh,” Viktor removes a hand to scratch the back of his neck, and grimaces, “I just…I wanted to ask if you’d told your friends about us, but I see you have.”

“Oh,” Yuuri frowns, “did you not want me to? I’m sorry.”

“No no,” Viktor says hastily, “I’m glad you did! I’m just, ha. Having a little bit of difficulty telling my own?”

“What do you mean?” Yuuri tips his head to one side. Viktor shrugs.

“I figured Chris would say something about it,” he says, “and I just didn’t really plan how to bring it up without him.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says slowly, “I figured he would have said something already. I was…kind of worried about it, to be honest. What he’d say, I mean.”

“Aw, Yuuri,” Viktor’s gaze softens. He leans his back up against the wall of the fire escape, and tips his head to one side.

“Dumb, I know,” Yuuri sighs. Viktor shakes his head.

“Not at all!” he says, “I was a little worried too actually. That’s why I came here. Chris won’t _say_ anything, but he keeps _looking_ at me.”

“Is he planning some sort of big reveal or something?” Yuuri asks anxiously.

“Ugh. I don’t know,” Viktor rolls his eyes, “I guess I just wanted to come and check everything was okay with you, you know, telling people.” He peers down at Yuuri worriedly.

Yuuri finds this incredibly sweet. He doesn’t quite want to outright say that to Viktor, but his blush and shy nod seems to portray the idea all the same. Viktor holds his arms out, and Yuuri slots himself into the hug. Although Yuuri can’t see them, he knows that Phichit, Leo and Guang-Hong must all be having aneurisms right about now.

“We could…all go?” he suggests slowly, “Over to your friends? And get it over with, I guess?”

“Wait – are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, upon some consideration. The year thirteens are all good people, and they’re Viktor’s friends. Even though it has only been a few days, he’s sure about his feelings and he’s sure about Viktor’s. The last thing he wants to do is promote keeping secrets from their friends.

“Lying by omission is not good,” he says, “I’d rather everyone knew. Guang-Hong said this morning that everyone was going to know anyway, and he’s not wrong.”

“Huh,” Viktor cranes his neck to look over the top of Yuuri’s head, and gives Guang-Hong a thumbs up. Yuuri turns in time to see Guang-Hong’s baffled thumbs up in return.

“Okay,” Viktor sighs, “but bring your friends too. I mean, we’re all friends now. We can be one big combined slightly gay happy family.”

 

Viktor’s group sits sprawled on the steps outside the hall. Although the ground is still damp from this morning’s rain, no one seems overly bothered. Chris is lying on the bottom of the stairs with Georgi sitting on his chest. Otabek and Seung-gil are looking at something on Mickey’s phone. Emil is watching Georgi and Chris and laughing.

“Hi!” Viktor calls as he approaches, “I’ve brought friends!”

“Hi!” Emil calls back, waving at the little group. Yuuri has not hung out with the principal cast group during school time before, and he expects it to feel a strange, but it doesn’t really. Mickey turns around immediately to show a curious Phichit a news article about some ice show in Thailand, and Leo and Guang-Hong cram themselves in next to Emil. Yuuri stands next to Viktor, who kicks Georgi repeatedly in the back.

“Why are you sitting on Chris?” he asks, as he kicks.

“I’m punishing him,” Georgi says.

“Apparently I’m a secretive asshole,” Chris says cheerfully. Viktor snorts.

“That doesn’t sound like you at all,” he says. Yuuri knows that this is a direct reference to their relationship. Chris knows it too, and snickers.

“Maybe I just like to make you sweat a little,” he says. Georgi looks incredibly confused. Viktor huffs a little through pursed lips, and then shakes his head and moves back a step.

Georgi at last gets to his feet and throws himself down on the bottom step. Chris crawls up to lounge beside him.

“It was to do with you anyway,” Georgi says pointedly to Viktor.

“Oh?” Viktor sits down next to them, and pulls Yuuri down to sit beside him too. As soon as Yuuri is seated, Viktor turns around and rests his back against Yuuri’s knees.

“Is _that_ what you were getting so excited about?” Georgi asks Chris, cocking a thumb in Viktor and Yuuri’s direction.

“Sort of,” Chris says. Viktor half turns so he can exchange a glance with Yuuri, who nods.

“You could just _ask_ , you know,” he says to his friends.

“Ask what?” pipes up Emil, who has been paying absolutely no attention until this point.

“Ask if Yuuri and I are dating,” Viktor says bluntly. There is a pause, as all of the year thirteens turn around and stare at them.

“Huh,” says Seung-gil softly.

“What the fuck?” screeches Mickey.

“Oh shit! Are you really?” Emil looks from Viktor to Yuuri, and then to Leo for confirmation. “Are they really?”

“Ha!” Chris crows with laughter, “ _I_ knew!”

“Shut up,” Viktor says good-naturedly, “you didn’t _know_.”

“I literally saw you making out in the foyer, I totally did know.”

“You _what_?!” multiple people yell. Yuuri feels Viktor sigh against his knees. At this angle, with Viktor’s head blocking the way, no one can see Yuuri start combing out the bottom of Viktor’s hair with his fingers. He is still a little tentative to touch Viktor – some part of him worries irrationally that everything that has happened between them is actually a daydream. But as soon as Yuuri starts touching his hair, Viktor reaches up and tugs out the hair tie to give Yuuri better access. His friends are all still yelling.

Viktor lets Chris tell his side of the story, and then offers a brief rundown of how he and Yuuri finally get together. He doesn’t mention their arguments to his friends. Phichit look across at Yuuri at this omission. Yuuri shrugs slightly. It doesn’t really matter, anyway.

“Good,” says Otabek with a little nod, when Viktor is done telling his story, “he was getting annoying.” This is addressed to Yuuri.

“What – really?”

“He think he’s subtle,” Seung-gil says with a roll of his eyes, “but he was actually the most disgustingly obvious.”

“Funny,” says Phichit with a dramatic gesture, “so was Yuuri!”

“Shut up,” both Viktor and Yuuri say together. Yuuri ducks his head to hide his grin, focusing instead on a little braid he is plaiting into Viktor’s hair.

“Hey,” Chris says, changing the subject at last, “I’m thinking of throwing a post-Production cast party. What do you guys think?”

And just like that, Yuuri and his friends are accepted as a part of Viktor’s friend group. It could be just because Yuuri is now basically an extension of Viktor, but as he looks around the group, Yuuri thinks that this is not the case. They belong here because they are all friends, have all _become_ friends through shared experience. Otabek catches Sight of Yuuri’s smile, and raises an eyebrow. Yuuri just shrugs, and Otabek just shakes his head with a roll of his eyes. This is just Otabek’s way of teasing – Yuuri knows this now. Knows he belongs enough to _be_ teased.

“I’m always down for a chance to drink,” Georgi says enthusiastically.

“Just for us, or for everyone?” Mickey asks.

“Dunno,” Chris shrugs.

“We were all in it together,” Yuuri says. He feels a little strange joining in the conversation, but everyone listens to him like he has the right to talk – so he does.

“You know,” he continues, “the whole cast. Everyone should be invited.”

“Hmmn, this is true,” Chris muses, “we could always get all the chorus to leave and then turn it into a proper party just for us.”

“Most of the chorus are too young to be drinking, anyway,” Viktor says thoughtfully.

“So are we,” Mickey points out.

Yeah, but we’re like, all over sixteen,” Viktor says, “so it doesn’t really _count_.”

“True,” Otabek interjects randomly. Everyone nods like Otabek’s word is law. Chris fishes his phone out of his pocket.

“I’ll make a Facebook event now!” he says.

 

* * *

 

The party is scheduled for that Friday night. The entire cast has been invited, although the general proviso is that the chorus leave by ten, so the principal cast can get down to the business of serious drinking.

“Nobody parties like Chris,” Viktor informs Yuuri as they drive to Phichit’s house to pick him up.

“Should I be worried?” Yuuri asks.

“Maybe,” Viktor says with a wink, “but it’s okay Yuuri, I’ll protect you!”

“Chance’ll be a fine thing,” Yuuri mutters. Viktor hears him, and sniggers. In all likeliness, it will be Yuuri protecting Viktor. Although they’ve never drunk together before, Yuuri has heard enough hair-raising stories about the drunken exploits of Viktor’s friend group to be on his guard. He has a few drinks in his backpack, but he suspects that he is going to be woefully unprepared.

Viktor has agreed to pick up Phichit, Guang-Hong and Leo on his way out to Chris’ house, since his friend lives quite far out of town, and none of Yuuri’s friends can drive. It’s still early enough for there to be plenty of light as they drive out of the city.

“Jesus,” Phichit stares out of the window as they come off the motorway, navigating a complicated system of roundabouts and off-ramps, “how does Chris get to school every day? It’s a bit far out!”

“He’s always late,” Viktor says, “since he refuses to get up before seven.”

“Does Seung-gil live near here too?” Yuuri asks. They are driving down a pleasant lane lined with large spreading oak trees. The large houses set well back from the road appear only at intervals of a few hundred metres – this is an affluent area. Yuuri did not have Chris down as being from a family with a lot of money. For all his flamboyancy, he is really quite down to earth, and these large country villas do not seem at all like the sort of place that he would live.

“Yeah, he does,” Viktor glances across at him with a small frown, “his house was just back there – how did you know?”

“Oh, just something Chris said once,” Yuuri says. He remembers Chris complaining to him the very first day of rehearsal about how Seung-gil made him get up at 6am for a run. Yuuri wouldn’t mind getting up at 6am, if it meant he could go for morning runs in a place as nice as this.

Viktor suddenly swear and makes a sharp left turn without indicating, throwing the three boys in the backseat against each other and crushing Phichit against the window. Gravel crunches beneath the tyres as the car jolts over the curb and down a lane that is practically invisible from the street.

“Sorry,” Viktor says, “I always miss the damn driveway!”

Said driveway is narrow and unpaved and hidden by a cluster of shrubbery and trees. Yuuri doesn’t blame Viktor for missing it – it’s a wonder anyone ever finds it.

“Bet they never get mail,” Leo says, glancing over his shoulder at the completely overgrown letterbox.

“Chris says that if his parents don’t see his canteen bill, they can’t tell him off about it,” Viktor snorts. The boys all laugh.

“It’s a good strategy,” Phichit says appreciatively, “I might have to try that!”

They round a corner in the drive then, and Chris’ house comes into view.

It is quite unlike all the other sprawling villas in the neighbourhood. Clearly architecturally designed, the house is a large wood and metal cube, perched in the centre of a magnificent rambling garden. There is ivy being trained to grow all up one rust-coloured wall, and solar panels on the roof, and Yuuri is fairly sure the light winking in his eyes is being reflected off an entire wall of windows.

“Woah!” Leo and Phichit exclaim together.

“I know right!” Viktor laughs as he pulls up next to a little cluster of cars which Yuuri recognises as belonging to the other year thirteens – although there are a few that aren't familiar as well.

Chris greets them in the doorway and directs them to the rumpus room, which is already filled with most of the cast members, who are all milling around drinking soft drinks and talking to each other. It is not yet strange to see all of them together in one place again – in fact, it feels like the last week hasn’t passed at all, and Yuuri is right back in the middle of production again.

People cheer when he and Viktor walk in, and Viktor takes a dramatic bow. Yuuri pauses for a horror-struck moment, thinking that everyone is applauding their relationship, but then he remembers that they were the stars of the show. Their relationship isn’t _quite_ common knowledge enough that the myriad cast members would have heard about it. Yet.

Chris shows them to a fridge where they can offload their drinks for later. Yuuri’s mouth falls open when he opens it and sees the sheer volume of alcohol inside.

“How – how many people are you planning on intoxicating with this, Chris?” he asks. Chris pauses, counts on one hand.

“About fifteen” he says cheerfully.

There is easily enough alcohol in the fridge for thirty people. Warily, Yuuri unloads his meagre three drinks and shoves them into any available space. When he moves aside, Viktor kneels and starts pulling bottles out of his bag.

He has a 24 pack of RTD’s, plus two bottles of wine (“The cab sav’s for you, Chris,” he says with a wink, and Chris howls with laughter – Yuuri supposes it is a personal joke) and a cardboard box of shots. Chris takes the shots and stashes them on top of the fridge.

Yuuri stares at Viktor.

“What?” Viktor says, nonplussed.

“That – are you planning on drinking all of that?” Yuuri asks. Viktor shrugs, and slings an arm around his shoulders.

“Not _all_ of it,” he says, “I just like to keep my options open.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says weakly.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, turning around suddenly and holding him at arm’s length, “you _have_ been to parties before, right?”

The honest answer is no. Yuuri has had alcohol before, with friends and family, but never to the excess that Viktor and his friends evidently enjoy. His pause is answer enough, as Viktor’s mouth falls open.

He seems to be struggling between horror and excitement, and at last settles on the latter.

“Oh, baby,” he says, “I’m sorry, but I think you’re going to get corrupted.”

Yuuri’s stomach squishes warmly at the casual pet name., but he tries to appear casual.

“I don’t think you can really call me baby if you’re planning to get me drunk,” he says. Viktor laughs, and pulls him back in. Instead of draping an arm casually back over his shoulders, Viktor instead tucks his right arm tight around Yuuri’s waist. With his left hand, he grabs two bottles of coke from the counter, and passes one off to Yuuri.

“You may not be _a_ baby,” he whispers in Yuuri’s ear, “but you are _my_ baby.”

Yuuri presses his face quickly into Viktor’s shoulder to hide his blush.

“For God’s sake,” comes a voice from behind them, and both Yuuri and Viktor turn. Seung-gil is reaching for a soft drink, and he shakes his head at them.

“We haven’t even started drinking yet and you two are being disgusting,” he continues.

Viktor detaches himself from Yuuri to go and fling his arms over his surly friend instead. Seung-gil freezes, and looks appropriately horrified.

“Get your touchy-feely hands off of me, dickhead,” he says. Viktor is like a human limpet, and he refuses to let go.

“No,” he says “not until you tell me you love me!”

“I despise you, actually,” Seung-gil says. Viktor just clings tighter, a placid smile on his face. Seung-gil tries once more to shake him off, but then sighs.

“ _Fine_ , I love you, you actual weirdo,” he says through clenched teeth.

“Yay!” Viktor laughs, hugging Seung-gil closer, mush to the other boy’s horror, “I knew you had a heart in there somewhere!”

Yuuri’s attention is diverted from the rather entertaining display by the arrival of Minami. The younger boy has scrubbed up and arrived in a sort of strange gladiator-esque shirt, and he greets Yuuri with his usual enthusiasm.

“Hey Minami,” Yuuri says politely, “how are you?”

“I’m great!” Minami says breathlessly, “but I miss Production!”

“Yeah,” Yuuri sighs, “don’t we all?”

“It is why we’re here,” Minami agrees. He and Yuuri both survey the room. Minami’s hands are twisting his bottle of sprite. Yuuri keeps a wary eye on it, just in case Minami seems about to drop it on his foot.

“Can I ask you something?” Minami blurts out suddenly. Yuuri looks at him with surprise.

“Yes,” he says. He is slightly wary – he suspects that Minami will ask him something about Viktor, and whilst he’s prepared to talk about it at some point tonight, he’d rather avoid the inevitable for as long as possible.

“How did you get so good at acting?” Minami asks. Yuuri blinks. He is completely taken aback.

“Sorry?” he says.

“Just – you’re _so good_ ,” Minami says with an emphatic wave of his arm, “like, I saw all your performances last year because my class had drama at the same time as your class, and you’re _so_ good at character, and just, everything! How do you do it? I know it’s natural talent, obviously, but…” he pauses to take a breath. Yuuri takes what may be his only opportunity to interject.

“I’m not _that_ good,” he says. Minami glares at him.

“You shouldn’t put yourself down all the time, Yuuri,” he says with such ferocity that Yuuri nearly takes a step back.

“When you make fun of yourself, you’re also making fun of me for looking up to you,” Minami continues, “you need to have more confidence in your abilities because trust me, you’re really good! Okay?”

The usually excitable Minami is fierce when riled. Yuuri gapes at him, and then shakes his head slowly.

“Yeah,” he says, “I know I need to have more confidence. It’s not that easy.”

“But Viktor’s so confident,” Minami says, sounding a little unsure, “and he’s not _quite_ as good as you.”

“That’s just because Viktor doesn’t care what people think about him – wait, you think I’m even better than Viktor?”

“Yes, I do,” Minami nods, and then glances over his shoulder to where Viktor is still harassing Seung-gil, “and he does care, he’s just good at hiding it.”

“Huh – you think?” Yuuri too turns to look over his shoulder.

“I’m good at reading people,” Minami says proudly. Yuuri studies Viktor, considering. Now he thinks about it, he realises that Minami may well be right. Viktor has a façade of casual confidence, but Yuuri knows it can be cracked – has broken it himself at unexpected moments with throwaway comments.

“Anyway, like I said,” Minami continues, tapping Yuuri on the arm with his sprite bottle, “be more confident!”

Before Yuuri can protest further Minami is called away, summoned by Emil yelling “Wife!” from across the room. Yuuri stares after him for a second, and then goes off in search of his friends.

 

Several hours later, as the younger guests are leaving, new people arrive. Yuuri only notices because Viktor gets up from his spot next to Yuuri on the sofa to go and greet them. Since Yuuri is getting his ass thoroughly kicked by Phichit in their game of Mario Kart, he passes his controller to Guang-Hong and goes after Viktor to see who has arrived.

It is the makeup girls – Mila and Sara. Yuuri is confused as to why the other girl Anya isn’t there too, but then remembers that she’s Georgi’s ex, and that she _probably_ wouldn’t want to come to a party that he is attending. Viktor has his arm around Mila when Yuuri pokes his head around the corner. He experiences for a second a hot stab of jealousy at the sight. He is used to Viktor being affectionate with literally everyone, but he seems to have such a close friendship relationship with Mila that he can’t help but wonder…he knows that Viktor is into girls as well as guys, so he’s not just being paranoid. Or maybe he is.

Viktor catches his eye and must see something in Yuuri’s expression, because he holds his free arm out in Yuuri’s direction and flaps his hand. Yuuri assumes this is a request for him to approach, and does do.

He slips under Viktor’s arm and presses a kiss to Viktor’s cheek. Staking his claim, as it were.

“Hey, Yuuri,” Mila says, tilting her head forwards so she can around Viktor’s head, “how are you?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Yuuri says. He instantly feels guilty for his moment of jealousy – Mila seems like a nice person. He would be being a dick if he just decided to dislike her because of her closeness to Viktor. But all the same.

“How are you?” he asks her in return.

“I’m great!” she says enthusiastically.

“I didn’t know you guys were coming,” Yuuri says. She shrugs one shoulder.

“Chris invited us,” she says, “he thought it would be boring with just dudes all drinking together.”

“Not that we’re the most hyper masculine bunch,” Viktor snorts.

“No,” Mila concedes. She cranes her neck out even further, so that she can glance between Viktor and Yuuri with a knowing little twinkle in her eye.

“I didn’t congratulate you two,” she says with a wink in Yuuri’s direction.

“You congratulated me,” Viktor points out. Mila smacks him on the arm.

“But I didn’t congratulate _Yuuri_ ,” she says, “you two are so cute!”

“Thanks,” Yuuri says. He glances up at Viktor, like he’s checking that the other boy is still there. Viktor glances down at him at the same time, and Mila awws.

“Okay, go away now,” Viktor shakes her off his arm, and she pouts.

“Rude!”

“You know I love you,” Viktor says, blowing her a kiss, “now go and harass your other friends.”

Mila laughs as she turns away to hug Mickey instead. This leaves Viktor and Yuuri standing in the doorway. Viktor turns half towards Yuuri, and rests his forehead against the top of Yuuri’s head. Yuuri turns himself properly so that he can link his hands behind Viktor’s waist and press his face into Viktor’s chest.

“Huh,” Viktor says, “you’re cute when you’re jealous.

“What – how could you tell?”

“You have a glass face,” Viktor says. He lifts Yuuri’s chin with one finger and turns his head from side to side, “every single expression shows up on your face. You don’t do it when you act, but when you’re just being Yuuri,” he kisses the tip of Yuuri’s nose, “it’s adorable.”

“Oh,” is all that Yuuri manages to say. He forgets how _observant_ Viktor can be sometimes. Most of the time he’s effervescent and forgetful, but he still sees things. Or maybe it’s only Yuuri that he sees.

Yuuri would be quite happy standing nose to nose with Viktor smiling sappily for the rest of the night, but this is not to be. Chris emerges from the rumpus room to corral them.

“I’m opening the shots,” he informs Viktor.

“Mmn,” Viktor says without looking at him, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Absolutely not,” Chris comes closer, and seizes Yuuri by the hand.

“I’m kidnapping your boyfriend,” he says, “as bait.”

“Hey,” Yuuri objects half-heartedly. He turns quite willingly as Chris yanks him back towards the rumpus room. He’s had time to relax into the crowd, and he’s looking forward to getting started on his first proper teenage party experience. Viktor follows them and wraps his arms around Yuuri’s waist from behind. He holds Yuuri like that as they watch Chris get down the box of shots from the top of the fridge.

It is only the principal cast left now, except for Minami, who left because he was too young, and JJ, who has always been too stand-offish to really be a part of the group. Chris whistles for everyone’s attention, and rattles the box of shots like he’s summoning a hungry pet. Suddenly everyone is there all at once, calling out demands. Yuuri is totally bemused.

Guang-Hong comes and stands next to them, and he exchanges a slightly alarmed glance with his friend.

“I want one of the chocolate ones,” Viktor yells in Yuuri’s ear. Chris pushes a tin-foil covered miniature plastic cup into his outstretched hand.

“What do you two want?” Chris asks Yuuri and Guang-Hong.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri says somewhat desperately.

“QF then,” Chris says decisively. This makes absolutely no sense. Yuuri opens his mouth to ask Chris to elaborate, but then Chris presents both he and Guang-Hong with shots of their own. The liquor inside is half milky white and half noxious bright green.

On the other side of the little cluster, Phichit and Leo, who are slightly more savvy with parties than Yuuri and Guang-Hong, seem like they know what they’re doing. Yuuri just copies what he sees them doing, and carefully peels off the tin foil lid of his shot.

“Here’s to R&J,” Chris raises his own shot into the air.

“Cheers!” everyone calls, and they down their shots as one.

Yuuri doesn’t know what he was expecting, but the liquor burns his throat as it goes down. It tastes like alcohol and not much else. Next to him, Guang-Hong chokes and dribbles quite a substantial amount of his own drink.

“That was strong,” he says weakly.

“Aw, Guang-Hong,” several people say fondly.

And with that, the party begins in earnest. Someone turns the lights down, and the music gets louder, and the room is filled with the clink of glass bottles and steadily slurring words.

Yuuri nurses his first drink as he watches the goings on. Leo, Chris and Otabek drag a collapsible pool table out of the storage cupboard, and spend a very confused ten minutes yelling over each other as they try to put it up. When they are at last successful everyone cheers. They get a game going – Leo, Guang-Hong and Otabek, versus Chris, Sara and Seung-gil. Everyone crowds around the table to watch. Yuuri knows absolutely nothing about pool, but Viktor, it turns out, knows quite a lot. He explains the rules to Yuuri as they watch the game.

“I used to watch my dad play,” he explains, “and he taught me how.”

“Man of many talents?” Yuuri quirks an eyebrow.

“Oh, sure,” Viktor says. He’s on his third drink by now. His words are getting a little less coherent, a little louder. His cheeks are starting to glow with the rosiness of intoxication, but he’s still completely steady on his feet. He doesn’t look at Yuuri as he speaks, but he trails his hand down from the small of Yuuri’s back to rest against his butt instead.

“Many talents indeed,” Viktor continues with a smirk, as he drains the last of his KGB.

Yuuri glances between Viktor and the empty bottle in his own hand, and sighs.

“I think I need to get on your level,” he says. Viktor cuts a glance towards him.

“Is that a challenge?” he asks slyly.

“To myself, maybe,” Yuuri says, “you lightweight.”

“Wow,” Viktor gasps, pretending to be offended. He presses a hand to his heat, “I am _wounded_ , Yuuri.”

“No, what _you_ are is tipsy,” Yuuri laughs as he turns to head back to the fridge. Viktor trails after him, taking his hand and refusing to let go, arguing all the while about how is definitely _not_ tipsy.

Yuuri pulls out his last two drinks and opens them off each other, before handing one to Viktor, who examines it with a critical eye before shrugging and drinking half of it in one go.

“Viktor!” Yuuri exclaims.

“What?” Viktor winks, “you said you wanted to get on my level? I intend to make that as hard for you as possible.” He flutters his eyelashes at Yuuri.

“What, by drinking yourself unconscious?” Yuuri shakes his head. All the same, his next drink goes down a lot faster.

No matter what he may say to the contrary, Viktor is _definitely_ a lightweight. By the time he opens his sixth, he is undeniably drunk. Yuuri, on his fourth (pilfered from Viktor’s box), is starting to feel it – but also not really. Sure, everything is fuzzy and warm and he knows he’s slurring his words a bit, but his head is still clear.

Or, not so much. Because drunk Viktor is a work of art, and Yuuri can’t keep his eyes off of him. He’s only wearing a thin cotton t-shirt, and it clings to the lines of his body as he wanders around the room. The sight makes Yuuri distinctly hot under the collar, so he drinks more to keep his hands busy.

Funny, the things his mind can come up with when he’s under the influence of sugar-infused vodka.

Georgi calls for a game of king’s cup, which Yuuri has never heard of but which everyone else seems enthusiastic about. Chris runs upstairs for a pack of cards. Viktor and Emil drag the furniture out of the way so that everyone can sit in a circle on the floor, and Phichit goes rootling in the cupboard next to the fridge and pulls out a large plastic cup, which he places in the middle of the circle.

Guang-Hong, Leo and Phichit sit in a cluster to Yuuri’s left, and Viktor inserts himself to Yuuri’s right. Chris carefully lays the cards face down in a circle around the cup, and then argues for five minutes with Georgi and Otabek about which card corresponds to what action. Yuuri, who has no idea what is going on, just sits back with his drink to enjoy the scene.

Finally, everyone seems to agree on how to play the game, and Mila is chosen to draw the first card. It is an Ace. Everyone groans. “It’s been nice knowing you all,” Chris says morosely, as Mila opens a new drink in preparation. Ace apparently means everyone has to drink until Mila stops drinking. As it turns out, Mila can drain an entire bottle.

Very few people manage to keep pace with her – one person, in fact. Everyone watches Yuuri – some in horror, some in elation. When Mila and Yuuri finish their drinks, the entire circle bursts into applause.

“Wow, Yuuri,” Mila grins across the circle at him, “you sure can drink.”

“That may not be a good thing!” Phichit laughs. Yuuri’s head is spinning, but he’s fairly sure that’s from oxygen deprivation rather than the alcohol hitting. So far it’s been more…drifting into his bloodstream. There has been no sudden transitional moment from tipsy to outright drunk. Then again, the night is still young.

As the game progresses, Yuuri starts to get the hang of it. Every card has a different correspondence, with different activities that the group must do. Everyone groans when Yuuri draws a King, and he is instructed to pour some of his drink into the cup in the middle.

For Phichit’s second turn, he draws a Jack. This apparently means that he gets to make up a new rule. He looks very deliberately across at Yuuri, and grins wickedly.

“I know that look,” Yuuri says pointedly, “and I don’t like it.”

“Okay,” Phichit says gleefully, “the rule is, that every single time Yuuri and Viktor look lovingly at each other, they have to drink!”

Everyone around the circle finds this absolutely hilarious, except Viktor and Yuuri.

“That’s not fair,” Viktor wails, as he hugs Yuuri’s shoulders, “he’s by myfriend – my – no, my _boy_ friend!”

“That’s the point, silly,” Sara giggles into her glass of wine.

“Phichit, are you _trying_ to put them in a coma?” Leo demands. Phichit just cackles.

The group is quite adamant on Viktor and Yuuri adhering to this rule. They both forget it quite often – exchanging a glance and a smile over a joke, or even just looking to check the other one is there. Every time they do, everyone screams at them to drink.

By the time the game finally ends with Georgi plugging his nose and chugging the king’s cup, Yuuri is definitely drunk. He has never been drunk before, but everything is spinning slightly and he’s loud and he wants to hug everyone. Time is moving strangely too, in jumps and blots and blurs.

Someone turns the music up. The song is one that Yuuri doesn’t know, something with a chorus in a different language that everyone else seems to know. Yuuri goes looking for Viktor – he’s sitting on the couch with Guang-Hong and Leo, telling them something about – coming out? Yuuri isn’t sure. He sits down on Viktor’s lap. Viktor is surprised, but instantly twines his arms around Yuuri’s waist and nuzzles into the back of his shoulder.

“Hey, baby,” he mumbles into the fabric of Yuuri’s shirt.

“Come and dance with me,” Yuuri commands. He turns on Viktor’s lap so that he can muss Viktor’s hair. Viktor’s head lolls against the back of his sofa. His smile is like the dawn breaking – dazzling, and all that Yuuri can see.

“Come,” Yuuri commands, and slithers off of Viktor’s lap. With a sigh, Viktor skips to his feet and lets Yuuri tug him over to the speaker.

If there is one thing that Yuuri can do instinctively, it is dance. He has been dancing all his life, and he moves like the music is already underneath his skin. It is his blood and bone, as much a part of him as his hair or his eyes or Viktor’s name. Yuuri holds Viktor’s hips and Viktor is touching his back and his shoulders and chest as they move, and it is all new and yet so familiar too.

It’s true what they say about alcohol removing inhibitions – Yuuri isn’t at all shy about seducing Viktor now. Viktor doesn’t take his eyes off Yuuri’s face, and his pupils are blown wide.

And then the music becomes nothing more than a heartbeat – integral, but unheeded. The others have spilled outside now, and they are alone in the rumpus room. Yuuri braces himself, and then lifts Viktor and spins him around. Viktor’s mouth falls open, but he positions his weight instinctively as Yuuri pivots. Viktor’s mouth is still open when Yuuri crowds him up against the wall and kisses him.

The last week has felt like a dream, all soft touches and gentle kisses and it has been the best week of Yuuri’s life, but there is visceral reaction which he craves, although he wouldn’t admit to it. But he finds it now in the friction of his body against Viktor’s as he pushes forwards.

Viktor, it seems, wants the same thing. He kisses Yuuri, open mouthed and hungry. He slides one hand underneath Yuuri’s shirt and across his stomach, making the muscle there jump. The other, he tangles in Yuuri’s hair, to keep Yuuri still as he transfers his attentions from Yuuri’s lips to his neck.

And this is entirely new, too. Even with his experience of kissing Viktor – and it is only two weeks, even if it feels like a lifetime – Viktor’s lips have not yet strayed from Yuuri’s mouth. But now he leaves what will become a trail of hickeys all down Yuuri’s neck and across his collarbones. Yuuri bites his lip, but he can’t quite keep from making the occasional yipping sound or harsh exhalation. Viktor, in turn, mumbles platitudes against his skin, words Yuuri doesn’t catch. Maybe they are in Russian, or maybe Yuuri’s brain has just given up on translating.

But they cannot stay like this forever. They are on stolen moments of privacy, and when Chris and Otabek burst back into the room, Viktor pushes Yuuri away slightly. He is breathing hard, but his smile is as sweet as honey.

The others call at them, laughing, joking. Viktor holds Yuuri around the waist. He plays with the edge of Yuuri’s shirt, and at every brush of his fingers against bare skin Yuuri feels goose bumps wash over him again.

Somehow, they make their way to the sofa, where they collapse in a tangle of limbs. The others are playing Mario Kart now, and Viktor and Yuuri are left alone to sprawl in peace.

Yuuri braces himself on his elbows so he can look down at Viktor’s face, examine it in detail now that he is allowed to. It is different, doing nothing but _looking_ , when it is not done in stolen moments. Viktor shifts position until Yuuri is settled more comfortably across his stomach, and swallows. His eyes, too, rove across Yuuri’s face.

“I still can’t believe this is real,” Yuuri blurts out. His brain/mouth filter has been completely eradicated. Viktor frowns.

“What do you mean?”

“This,” Yuuri says. He touches Viktor’s lips. “You.”

“I’ve always been here,” Viktor mumbles. Yuuri does not move his hand.

“Yes,” Yuuri says, “I’ve _always_ liked you, Viktor. You’re soo beautiful.”

Viktor blushes and tilts his head to the side.

“Yuuri,” he says, “you’re so sweet, Yuuri.”

“But,” Yuuri says. He squiggles again and moves backwards so he can see Viktor’s face better. Viktor’s breath catches, and he goes still.

“That’sh what I don’t _get_ ,” Yuuri insists, “you’re so, so, you! And I just, can’t believe, that I get _you_.”

He thinks this makes perfect sense. Viktor doesn’t seem to agree, because he frowns.

“Yuuri,” he says, “I’ve said it, like, ten thousand times. You’re the sweetest and, and the cutest, and the sexiest and I like you soo much.”

“I know,” Yuuri says. He is sitting astride Viktor’s hips now – he definitely knows.

“I’m still just, like, you know,” he shrugs, “the luckiest guy in the world, probably.”

“Uh, no,” Viktor says, “ _I_ am.”

He reaches up and yanks Yuuri back down for another kiss. Gradually, Yuuri slips off of Viktor and ends up squashed up between him and the back of the sofa. Viktor rolls over to make better room for him. And then suddenly, it is morning.

 

Yuuri doesn’t remember falling asleep, but now daylight is bright on his face. He is lying half on top of Viktor, and his head hurts. Someone has thrown a blanket over them, but Yuuri is still cold. Viktor radiates heat, so Yuuri snuggles as close to his boyfriend as he can without pushing him off the couch, and goes back to sleep.

When he wakes up for real, Viktor has his phone squashed up right in front of his nose.

“Up to?” Yuuri croaks.

“Good morning,” Viktor kisses him on the forehead.

“When did we fall asleep?” Yuuri asks. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes with a grimace.

“No idea,” Viktor says. The smell of cooking bacon is slowly permeating the house, so they clamber off the couch and amble upstairs.

Everyone else is already assembled in varying states of disarray. Most people are loitering in the kitchen like seagulls, watching the bacon cook hungrily.

“Morning boys,” Chris chirps, “there’s also toast, and hash browns in the oven!”

“Nice,” Viktor says appreciatively. He seizes a piece of toast, scrapes a bit of butter over it, then folds it in half and shoves most of it into his mouth in one go.

“Ew,” Sara says. Viktor just gives her a thumbs up, as his mouth is too full to answer.

Yuuri learns that he and Viktor passed out at about one am, and everyone else crashed around three.

“I feel cheated,” Viktor says when his mouth is clear again, “you should have woken me up!”

“You two looked too cute, though,” Guang-Hong says. His hands are folded under his chin as he stands on the other side of the kitchen island.

“Umph,” is all Yuuri says in response. Although it took a while to come back to him, he now remembers the previous night in perfect detail. He feels rather cheated, too.

After breakfast, people start to leave. Guang-Hong needs to be back in time for badminton, so their car load is the first to leave.

“Thanks for the awesome night, Chris,” Phichit says.

“No problem,” Chris winks, “it was cool to hang out with you guys!”

The rest of the year thirteens bid them farewell. The girls follow them out – Sara has to work at eleven.

“I hate always being in the middle,” Guang-Hong sighs, as they all scramble into the backseat.

“You’re the shortest,” Yuuri says over his shoulder, “it’s only fair.”

“I _know_ ,” Guang-Hong sighs, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t hate it!”

“Aw, G,” Leo laughs, but doesn’t offer to swap.

The sun is too bright. Viktor digs his aviators out of the glovebox. Yuuri just closes his eyes and flips the sun screen down.

Once the others are dropped off and Viktor has pulled over outside Yuuri’s house, Yuuri reaches over and pulls Viktor’s sunglasses off. Viktor lets Yuuri stick them on his head, but then captures Yuuri’s hands and brings them to his mouth. He kisses Yuuri’s knuckles lazily.

“Did you mean it,” Yuuri asks suddenly. Viktor blinks up at him.

“…what?”

“Oh,” Yuuri laughs, “what you said last night. All those things about, you know. Me.”

“Ohh,” Viktor says. He pauses, and for a horrible second Yuuri thinks that Viktor is going to say that he doesn’t remember. But then he nods.

“Of course, Yuuri,” he says. He sounds perfectly solemn, in that way that he can be when he’s talking about Yuuri, to Yuuri. He tips his head to one side and presses his thumb against Yuuri’s lower lip. Yuuri lets his mouth fall open. Viktor closes his eyes for a long second.

“Yuuri, you’ll be the death of me,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so I started thinking about this basically before I'd even finished the og star fire and silver - voila! I wrote it in about two weeks, it's all done and ready to go, but I decided to split it up into chapters a) because 37k is, in fact, a lot to read in one go and b) because i want to build ~anticipation. Or something.  
> anyway, thanks as always 2 anna, and also to all of you for the lovely comments on the first part of this series. love you all!


	2. fire & ice

The next Monday is a public holiday – all of the schools are closed. Viktor comes to collect Yuuri in the morning, and they head to Viktor’s house for the day. When they arrive, the door is opened by Yurochka. He narrows his eyes. Yuuri wonders if this is supposed to be menacing.

Viktor ruffles his brother’s hair as he squeezes through the doorway. Yurochka hisses and swats at him furiously. Yuuri squeezes in the doorway nervously and goes to follow Viktor into the kitchen. He is distracted in the living room by the game paused on the TV screen.

“What?” Yurochka asks aggressively, appearing at Yuuri’s elbow and squinting at him.

“Huh? Oh – I just like that game, is all,” Yuuri says. Yurochka examines him for any sign of untruth, and then jerks his head.

“Play with me,” he commands. Yuuri is taken aback. He watches as Yurochka opens the cabinet underneath the TV and removes another controller from a box. He turns and shakes it in Yuuri’s direction, and just keeps shaking it until Yuuri goes to him and takes it.

“What are you – oh,” Viktor sticks his head around the doorway, and frowns when he sees Yuuri settling down on the couch.

“Yurochka, why are you stealing my boyfriend?” he asks with a pout. Yurochka does not condescend this with a response, but Yuuri shoots an apologetic grin over his shoulder.

With a long suffering sigh, Viktor settles down on the couch with them. He kicks and nudges until both Yuri’s move far enough apart for him to be able lie across the both of them. Yurochka sighs dramatically when Viktor plonks his legs down on his lap, but does nothing to remove them. Viktor rests his head in Yuuri’s lap, and starts to play some random game on his phone.

They don’t really talk a lot – Yuuri and Yurochka quickly become immersed in the game, the only communication really coming from Viktor looking up and asking them what’s going on, or whenever either of the boys has a particularly successful kill streak. Eventually, Viktor tucks his phone into his pocket and appears to go to sleep.

“Why is he like this?” Yurochka asks Yuuri, as if he is the one more likely to know. Yuuri just shrugs.

“It’s kind of sweet,” he replies.

“Ew,” Yuuri snorts dismissively.

About twenty minutes later, Viktor suddenly starts and tips sideways so his face is buried in the back of the couch, as he digs in his back pocket for his phone. Yurochka smacks his leg in irritation.

“Hi!” Viktor ignores his brother and plants his feet firmly back down in his lap as he answers the call.

“Ooh, intriguing,” Viktor says, and then, “Ha! You know me too well.”

“Who are you talking to?” Yuuri asks Viktor. Viktor just raises a hand and presses it to Yuuri’s mouth.

“Yeah. Yeah. Haha, yeah! Oh God, you could try, but you’d be lucky. Yeah, I reckon he might.”

Yuuri tunes Viktor out and focuses on the game. Yurochka grumbles under his breath every now and again, sometimes in Russian, sometimes in English. At last, Viktor hangs up.

“That was Mila,” he explains, “she wanted to tell me about this drama course thing she found.”

“Huh?” Yuuri blinks down at Viktor, “are you going to do it?”

“Yeah, well,” Viktor shrugs, “I’ll do it if you do!”

“Wait,” Yuuri pauses the game (Yurochka hisses in annoyance) and nudges Viktor off of his lap. Viktor sits up properly, and turns around to face Yuuri.

“It’ll be fun!” he says, “I don’t want to do it on my own, Yuuri!”

He leans forward to drape himself across Yuuri’s shoulder with a pout.

“What – ah, when is it? _What_ is it?” Yuuri asks.

“Oh, well, Mila says it’s just run at the university in the first week of the holidays,” Viktor explains. He sits back and starts gesticulating as he talks faster and faster. “She said she doesn’t really know what’s in it, but that it would be good for my drama school applications!”

“…oh yeah,” Yuuri says, somewhat weakly. He has been trying not to think about Viktor going away to drama school next year – even though they’ve only been officially together for a few weeks, any thought of things ending or changing is enough to make Yuuri feel tense and sad.

“Will you do it with me, Yuuri? Please?” Viktor folds his hands under his chin and flutters his eyelashes at Yuuri.

“Ew,” Yurochka says again. He gets up from the couch and stomps into the kitchen, “let me know when you two have finished being gross.”

“Will do!” Viktor calls after him. Once his brother has disappeared, he scoots closer to Yuuri and tucks his knees up underneath his chin.

“Please?” he asks again.

“I’m not opposed to it,” Yuuri admits. He turns the controller idly in his hands, thinking it over.

“It wouldn’t _hurt_ , I guess,” he says tentatively.

“No,” Viktor agrees, “and it would be fun, right? Doing that together?”

“What,” Yuuri snorts, “like an extended week long date, except with other people?”

“Well,” Viktor huffs hair out of his eyes, “not _quite_. But kind of!”

“Urgh,” Yuuri tips his head back on the sofa and peers sideways at Viktor, “I mean, I guess so? If you really want me to!”

“Yes!” Viktor nods. He can be a little bit like a kid sometimes – he gets so _excited_. He’s beaming, face totally illuminated, and Yuuri has always been weak for Viktor’s smile. He’s still not overly keen, but if it will make Viktor happy…

 

Two weeks out from the holidays, they both receive confirmation that they have been accepted into the course. Yuuri stares at the email until his vision blurs. Beside him, Viktor is chattering away to his friends about it. Yuuri reads the email over several times. Something in him just doesn’t feel _right_ about this. It’s a sort of disquieting anxiety that comes on him occasionally, usually when he’s about to do something that he _really_ doesn’t want to do.

Yuuri forces himself to look up from the email. He is sitting with the year thirteens for lunch today. It is too wet for them to take their usual place on the stairs – instead they are all huddled in one of the dingy A block classrooms. Viktor is hanging over Chris’ shoulder, pointing something out on his phone. The others are all paying attention – Otabek and Mickey are both trying to talk at once. It is a little bubble of noise and activity, and it suddenly becomes overstimulating.

Yuuri gets up and goes to the window. Outside, the day is dismal. The quad is flooding, and a few saturated students are running across to get to the computer rooms. Yuuri traces a couple of racing water droplets with his fingers, and tries to pinpoint his misgivings.

There’s something still bothering him about what Viktor had said, when he had first proposed the course – about needing it for his drama school applications. Yuuri flicks another glance towards Viktor, reads him in profile with rolled-up blazer sleeves and nearly waist-length platinum hair. He is too much for Yuuri really, too much for all of this. He is like a flame on a dark night – far too bright.

So of course he will go to drama school. He’ll apply, and he’ll get in, and he’ll shine, and where will that leave Yuuri?

He could always go to drama school too, of course. He doesn’t really know what he wants to do with his life – it’s not like he has any concrete ideas about his career. He’s not good enough at science to be a doctor or an engineer, and he can’t imagine anything more boring than studying law or business.

He is distracted from his existential crisis by Emil, who gets up from the table and drags Yuuri back into the fold by the sleeve of his blazer.

“You have to see this video, Yuuri,” he says, “it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“You say that about every single video,” Mickey rolls his eyes, “literally every single thing we show you. You say it’s the funniest thing.”

“Ah, let him live,” Chris says, “we’re entertained watching him be entertained!”

Emil takes Chris’ phone from him and turns it towards Yuuri, and he’s sucked back into the real world again. All his ponderings on Viktor and drama school and his future fade away to the back of his mind, to be dragged up at some other time that isn’t now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

That weekend, Viktor turns up at Yuuri’s house at ten on Saturday morning. Yuuri is not expecting it, and is still wearing his pyjamas when he opens the door. Viktor tuts at him.

“Get dressed, Yuuri,” he says, chivvying him back inside the house. He, of course, is perfectly polished as usual. He’s wearing the pink sweater today, with the ever-present Nike bag slung over one shoulder.

“What – why are you here? What are you doing?” Yuuri asks blearily.

“We’re going on a date!” Viktor says cheerfully as he toes off his shoes and shoves Yuuri back down the hallway.

“Um…do you think that maybe you could have warned me in advance?”

“Why?” Viktor asks, startled, “do you have plans?”

“No,” Yuuri rolls his eyes, “but I might have done.”

“But you don’t, so it’s fine,” Viktor grins, and flops backwards onto Yuuri’s unmade bed. With a long-suffering sigh, Yuuri scoops up some clothes and goes to have a shower. When he emerges, clean and smelling of lemon soap, Viktor hasn’t moved from his bed. He’s still lying there, long legs sticking off the end of the bed, peering up at his phone.

“Don’t drop it,” Yuuri tells him. The bed sinks sideways as he sits down beside Viktor’s head to put his socks on.

“Huh?”

“Your phone,” Yuuri elaborates, “don’t drop it on your face.”

“I’ll try not to,” Viktor promises.

Since Viktor doesn’t show any signs of moving, Yuuri lies down beside him and peers up at the screen. He’s iMessaging someone, and everything is in Cyrillic.

“Wow,” Yuuri squints up at the foreign letters, “what does that even say?”

“I’m texting my grandmother,” Viktor says. He transfers his phone into his left hand so he can point things out with his right.

“The one that you were with in that picture in your house? The one who has your nose?”

“Ha! Yeah,” Viktor smiles softly, “that’s her. Her name is Masha – she gave Yurochka his cat, and he named it after her.”

“That’s cute,” Yuuri says.

“I know right?” Viktor sighs, and turns his head to face Yuuri.

“Do you miss them?” Yuuri asks, “your family in Russia?”

“All the time,” Viktor says, “but it’s okay. I have a life here and I wouldn’t leave it for the world.” He smiles as he says this, and moves his face forward so he can kiss Yuuri. It’s gentle and sweet, just the lightest brush of lips, but it still leaves Yuuri breathless. They lie face to face on the bed for some time before Viktor’s phone pings with another message. Both boys jump.

“Hmmn,” Viktor says, examining the new message. He locks his phone without replying and slithers off the end of the bed.

“Come on,” he holds out his hands to Yuuri to help heave him off of the bed, “let’s go!”

“Where _are_ we going?” Yuuri asks, as he follows Viktor through the house.

“Ice skating!” Viktor says.

“Viktor, there are like, three rinks on this entire island.”

“I know,” Viktor says cheerfully as he unlocks his car and tosses his bag in the back.

“Viktor, you can’t drive us all the way to up north! It’s way too far!”

“Yes I can,” Viktor says blithely. Yuuri knows he should probably argue with him – after all, Viktor is only on his restricted license, and driving around town is one thing, but driving in the big city is a whole other kettle of fish. Yuuri tells Viktor this even as he’s buckling up. Viktor just shrugs again.

“I’ve driven there before,” he says, “it’s not a big deal, Yuuri. Trust me, okay?”

And Yuuri does trust Viktor, so he stops complaining and decides to just enjoy himself instead.

 

On the way up, they stop for ice cream in a little town just off the motorway. Viktor is aghast to discover that Yuuri has never been there before. It starts to rain as they park the car on a side street, so Viktor and Yuuri (neither of whom brought umbrellas) have to run all the way up the road and into the little corner shop. They arrive, damp and laughing. Viktor holds Yuuri’s hand as they walk back and forth trying to pick their flavours. Viktor has a lot of difficulty deciding – he wants one of everything, and Yuuri has his work cut out for him persuading Viktor that he does not, in fact, need seven scoops.

Two turns out to be more than enough, as they are of colossal size. They eat them in the car, with the radio playing and the rain drumming softly down outside. Viktor pauses mid-lick to watch in horror as Yuuri takes a bite out of his ice cream.

“I can’t believe you’re one of _those_ people,” he says, shaking his head in horror, “how does that not hurt your teeth?”

“I dunno,” Yuuri examines his ice cream, “it just doesn’t!”

“Strange,” Viktor says, and then: “can I taste yours?”

Yuuri holds his ice cream out to Viktor. He has rum’n’raisin, and chocolate cheesecake. Viktor grimaces when he licks the rum ice cream.

“That tastes really alcoholic,” he informs Yuuri, “I can’t believe you actually like that.”

“It’s doesn’t taste that bad,” Yuuri laughs, and takes a bite out of it, just to watch Viktor rear back in exaggerated horror.

“Weird,” he points his own cone at Yuuri’s chest, “ _very_ weird.”

Yuuri does it again and again just to tease Viktor. The novelty of that hasn’t worn off either – being able to rile Viktor up, being _allowed_ to do so. If he stops to think about it, Yuuri still can’t quite believe that he gets to call Viktor his. He finishes his ice cream long before Viktor does, and sits sideways, shredding a napkin between his fingers as he watches Viktor.

“What?” Viktor asks, when he notices Yuuri staring. Yuuri shrugs. Viktor crams the last of the cone in his mouth, crunches down on it, and then takes a sip of water.

“Shall we go?” he asks.

“Mmn,” Yuuri agrees, but doesn’t move to sit properly or put his seatbelt on. He feels like a sappy idiot, and he suspects that this comes across on his face too, because Viktor huffs a laugh and leans over to kiss him on the forehead.

“Seriously,” he says, “we can’t just sit here all day.”

Yuuri would be perfectly happy to just hang out in Viktor’s car all day actually, but since Viktor has gone to so much effort, he nods and agrees.

The drive is relatively uneventful – when they enter the city, Yuuri surreptitiously tightens his seatbelt and watches the traffic anxiously. Viktor is perfectly relaxed, zipping into the gaps in traffic like a born-and-bred city boy.

“I can’t believe you drive like a city kid,” Yuuri says, as Viktor changes lanes at lightning speed to get to the correct off ramp.

“Badly, you mean,” Viktor says, as they head into the eastern suburbs in the direction of the ice rink.

“Not _badly_ ,” Yuuri muses, “just…opportunistically.”

“So, badly?” Viktor winks at Yuuri, and then slams on the brakes as the car in front of them stops suddenly for a yellow light.

“Sorry,” he apologises, “but point proven, huh?”

Yuuri just shakes his head fondly, and lets it go.

Now that he’s actually here, he’s excited to go ice skating. He hasn’t been in _years_ , and although he rollerblades occasionally, it’s not really the same thing.

When they arrive, Viktor parks right in front of the pile of dirty ice outside of the door. There are a few children clambering over it, exclaiming “Snow, snow, snow!”

“What do you think that’s from?” Yuuri asks Viktor, nodding at the ice as Viktor locks the car and they head inside the building. Viktor glances over and shrugs.

“I have no idea,” he says, “that little golf cart thing they smooth the ice over with, maybe?”

“I don’t think it’s a golf cart,” Yuuri laughs. Viktor shoves at him playfully in response.

Inside, there is a little queue of people waiting to rent skates. As it is a Saturday, most of the people here are families with children. There are a few clusters of younger teenagers though, a mix of all genders. Yuuri is usually intimidated by other teenagers (regardless of the fact that he is one himself). His mild discomfort is not at all helped by the way they glance at him and Viktor regularly. It makes him edgy, and he steps a little closer to Viktor when one of the girls tosses her hair as she looks over her shoulder.

Viktor makes a little huffing noise in the back of his throat, which Yuuri takes to mean that he has noticed the attention. He glances over just in time to see Viktor winking at the girl, who blushes and looks away. Yuuri smacks him on the chest with the back of his hand.

“ _Viktor_!”

“What?” Viktor looks across at him, “I like watching them get flustered!”

Yuuri suspects that this might be an innuendo, and narrows his eyes. Viktor blinks across at him, all innocence, and then gets that beady look that signifies trouble. He opens his mouth, takes a deep breath, and then chokes on it when Yuuri slaps both hands across his mouth.

“Do not,” Yuuri says.

“Ack – do not what?” Viktor’s voice is muffled by Yuuri’s hands.

“If you yell at everyone to look at me, I will never go out with you again,” Yuuri says. Viktor looks wounded.

“Yuuri,” he says, “you don’t know that that’s what I was going to day. I might have been about to yell about how I think you’re really cute and I like you a lot.”

The wink that accompanies this statement is really quite unfair. Yuuri blushes, and bundles up his hands at his sides.

“Well,” he struggles for words, “you shouldn’t yell in public anyway.”

Viktor laughs his little huff-laugh, and tugs on Yuuri’s hands. The line finally starts moving as skate-rentals open, so Viktor laces their fingers together as they walk.

“I was going to do it for her,” Viktor says slightly randomly. At Yuuri’s quizzical glance, he elaborates. “That girl, the one who keeps looking at me. I was going to do it so she’d know not to bother.”

“You could do that without making a big scene, you know,” Yuuri points out. Viktor, who knows no life unless it is lived dramatically, blinks at this.

“Could I?” he asks. Yuuri sighs and glances ahead to make sure the girl is looking. She’s probably only about 14, pretty enough with curly brown hair and bright orange lipstick that contrasts with her olive skin. But still. Yuuri tugs on the collar of Viktor’s sweater. Viktor, who isn’t expecting it, stumbles a little as he turns around. The momentum of this propels him into Yuuri, who has to let go of Viktor’s collar and stabilise him by holding onto his waist instead.

“Hello,” Viktor has time to say before Yuuri kisses him.

He’s making a point, so it’s only a very brief kiss – barely a kiss at all, more an insinuation of one. Besides, they’re in public, and Yuuri doesn’t really _do_ PDA.

“Oh,” Viktor says, when Yuuri let’s go of him. There is a little bit of colour in his cheeks. Yuuri is savagely satisfied at this – he likes it when Viktor gets a little bit flustered, innuendo or otherwise. Viktor flicks his 0eyes sideways to the girl, and then looks back at Yuuri.

“Wow,” he says, “I _really_ like it when you get jealous!”

“Shut up,” Yuuri says. He’s already starting to feel embarrassed about the whole ‘seize-your-boyfriend-and-kiss-him-so-people-will-know-he’s-taken’ thing. Seeing as they _are_ in public. And other people can see.

“Aw, Yuuri, please don’t be embarrassed,” Viktor says. He loops an arm across Yuuri’s shoulders as they move further up the line, “it was hot, and I liked it.”

“That’s – ooph. I’m glad,” Yuuri says. They are nearly at the front of the line now, and Yuuri can see through the plate glass doors into the actual rink. There are two people on the ice so far, as most people are still busy lacing up their skates. One of them stumbles, and the person with them clutches on to the wall of the rink and laughs.

“Anyway,” Viktor continues, “I brought you here exactly so we could do cheesy romantic things like that. That’s kind of the point of a date, isn’t it?”

“I – true,” Yuuri says. They pause their conversation then so that they can get their rental skates. They bring them through the door into the rink, which is – unsurprisingly – freezing cold. The move all the way around to the other side where the stands are so they can put their skates on in peace away from the crowds of children and jilted 14 year olds.

“Hey Viktor,” Yuuri asks, as laces up his skates.

“Hmmn?”

“Why exactly did you decide to do this without warning, though? Like, you could have actually, you know. Told me that we were going on a date.”

“Oh. Well. It was partly because I thought you’d say no.”

“Viktor, I’m literally your boyfriend.”

“Not to that,” Viktor laughs, “I mean say no to coming here. You freaked out as it was, about me driving all this way.”

“Oh. True. But why, really?”

“Well,” Viktor hesitates, “do you remember at Chris’ party a few weeks ago, when we were on the couch, you were talking about how you thought I was too good for you?”

“I didn’t say that – did I?”

“No,” Viktor shakes his head, “but I felt like that was what you were insinuating. I wanted to do something special for you, so you would know that that’s actually total bullshit!”

Viktor stands up then. He wobbles slightly as he tries to adjust his balance, but then rights himself and holds his hand out to Yuuri. Yuuri, flabbergasted, just blinks up at him.

“I – Viktor, that’s really sweet,” he says.

“I know,” Viktor winks, “now come and skate with me, Yuuri!”

Yuuri takes his hands, and they stump over to the little door in the rink wall.

 “Have you ever skated before?” Viktor asks Yuuri as they step out onto the ice.

“Mmn, but not for ages. How about you?”

“Oh, I’m the same,” he says cheerfully, “so this should be fun, huh?”

 

They are a bit of a disaster at first. Both of them have forgotten how _slippery_ ice can be. It is nothing like rollerblading, either. Yuuri learns the hard way that he has a toe pick, when he tries to glide on the toe of his right foot and falls spectacularly forward onto his knees.

“ _Shitfuck_ ,” he says, as the familiar hot pain shoots from his knees into his stomach, “not _again_. Stop laughing, Viktor!”

Still sniggering, Viktor braces himself against the wall with one hand for balance as he extends the other to Yuuri to help him up. Still bent double, Yuuri slides over to the wall and holds it, panting.

“Are you alright?” Viktor asks, through his laughter.

“Just the usual,” Yuuri rolls his eyes.

“Huh? Oh, your knees again!”

“Yees,” Yuuri says through clenched teeth. He stretches each leg out carefully. The advantage of being in an ice rink is that his knees are quite cold enough without needing additional ice. The pain is receding quickly.

“You know, you really should take better care of your knees,” Viktor says chirpily, “you might need them for something.”

Yuuri looks up at him slowly. Viktor just shrugs. He is feigning innocence, which is completely at odds with the lewd grin on his face.

Now is not an appropriate time for Yuuri to be visualising any alternative uses for his own knees, so he starts skating again. After a few cautious laps of the ice, the pain has completely subsided, and Yuuri has his recovered his skating balance and is able to move faster. Viktor, too has found his rhythm.

He deems it safe for them to be able to hold hands now and links their fingers together so they can skate side by side. A couple near them are skating with one of the pair backwards. Viktor eyes them beadily.

“No,” Yuuri says firmly, “we are not.”

“Why not?” Viktor asks, “it would be cute!”

“Neither of us is bad enough at skating to warrant that though,” Yuuri points out. Viktor shrugs.

“I could become bad enough?” he says, “if you’d skate in front of me and hold my hands.”

“ _No_ ,” Yuuri says firmly. Viktor pouts.

“Yuuri, you’re no fun!”

They skate a few more laps, pointing out funny things and people. Viktor keeps sighing pointedly though every time they pass other couples, and eventually Yuuri gives in with a sigh.

“ _Fine_ ,” he grumbles, and Viktor claps his hands together like a small child presented with candy.

“Yay!” he says, and hold his hands out to Yuuri. They have a small dispute over who gets to skate backwards, which Viktor wins. It is lucky that he is actually quite a good skater, because Yuuri feels far less stable holding Viktor’s hands as Viktor glides backwards that he did before. The one advantage of skating like this, though, is that he gets to see Viktor’s face, watch the frown of concentration as he focuses on what he is doing, watch the way his gaze constantly flicks up to Yuuri’s own face. As they approach the wall, Viktor does not turn. Instead, he keeps going backwards.

“What are you –?” Yuuri starts to ask. Viktor’s back hits the wall and he jerks Yuuri forward so they are pressed close together.

“Oh,” Yuuri exhales on the word.

“Like I said,” Viktor tips his head to the side and bites his lip, deliberately flirtatious, “I brought you here to do cheesy romantic stuff. What’s romance without a bit of PDA?”

“Um, subtle?” Yuuri says. Viktor just hums, and tugs Yuuri a little bit closer. This would have been effective had they been standing on the ground, but since they are actually on ice, even the tiny bit of force sends Yuuri shooting forward. He slams into Viktor hard, and both of them bite back on swear words as they struggle to keep their balance. Yuuri seizes the wall of the rink, and Viktor grabs at his shoulder, and Yuuri prays to the gods of ice skating that they both stay on their feet.

The unknown ice deities seem to have their ears open, because both of them regain their balance without face planting.

“Oops,” Viktor laughs. He is now standing side on to Yuuri, and he is speaking directly into Yuuri’s ear, “that was close, hmmn?”

The shivers that sparkle down Yuuri’s spine have little to do with the temperature.

 

As their skate session progresses, Yuuri and Viktor get more and more comfortable on their skates. Viktor even drifts away at one point to try a few slow lazy spins. He nearly falls over, and Yuuri laughs at him. They have paid for two hours, which seems like forever. It is like time is suspended in the ice beneath their feet, as Yuuri and Viktor drift lazily around, paying attention only to each other.

They pass the girl from the queue a few times, but Viktor pays her no heed, and soon enough Yuuri doesn’t either. After about an hour they go and get milkshakes from the café, and sit inside the warm glassed-in room, watching other skaters moving in circles around and around and around.

When their skating session is over, they dash across the road to a strip mall and buy some donuts, which they take back to eat in the car. Viktor gets powdered sugar around the edges of his mouth.

“You have something,” Yuuri points out, through a mouthful of his own donut.

“Huh?” Viktor mumbles.

Struck by impulse, Yuuri leans over the seat and kisses Viktor. His lips taste, unsurprisingly, of sugar.

“Got it,” Yuuri says when he pulls away. Viktor ducks his head and grins.

 

Things go slightly pear shaped when they are on their way back. Slightly sugar high and pleasantly exhausted, the boys don’t talk a lot on the drive. They radio buzzes pleasantly in the background. Yuuri zones out as he stares out of the window, and Viktor focuses on his driving.

It is as they are near to the turn off towards home when traffic begins to jam. Yuuri sits up in interest. They turn the corner, and they see the reason for the traffic jam – they are approaching a cop stop.

“Shit,” Viktor says, as he slows the car, “shit shit _shit_!”

“Shit,” Yuuri agrees weakly. His heart feels like it’s caught in his throat. Viktor is only on his restricted license – it is technically illegal for him to be driving Yuuri around. This doesn’t matter much at home, when the most Viktor usually drives Yuuri is home from school or around to other people’s houses or to the mall. Being stopped on the motorway has the potential for a nasty fine, or worse.

“Okay,” Viktor turns to him, “pretend we’ve been together for three years!”

“What?” Yuuri gapes across at Viktor, “how will that help?”  
“If we pretend to be defacto we might get off!” Viktor says desperately.

“So what, we’ve been dating since I was thirteen?” Yuuri all but shrieks.

“Shh! Shit, uh, you’re the same age as me, okay? Or I can pretend we’re older –”

“Your age is on your license,” Yuuri points out.

“Fuck!” Viktor swears. He bites his lip hard as the car crawls closer to the policewoman who is checking people’s licenses.

“Oh God,” Yuuri moans. Viktor glances across at him, and then reaches across and squeezes Yuuri’s hand tightly. He lets go as he rolls the car forward, and greets the policewoman with a charming smile. Yuuri just shuts his mouth and tries not to look as though he’s about to cry.

When the policewoman asks him for his license, Viktor leans across Yuuri and scrabbles in the glovebox for it. He emerges red faced and slightly breathless, and hands it to her. She glances from it, to him, to Yuuri, and then narrows her eyes.

“This is a restricted license,” she says.

“Yes,” Viktor agrees. The sun is in his eyes and he has to squint slightly, but he’s still smiling. Yuuri doesn’t know how he seems to be staying so calm.

“You’re not allowed to carry passengers on your restricted license,” the policewoman tells Viktor. Viktor blinks.

“Oh,” he says earnestly, “I thought you were allowed to drive your partner around if you’ve been in a committed relationship for over three years. I’m so sorry!”

Yuuri cuts his eyes between the policewoman and Viktor. Viktor is, as always, a brilliant actor. He glances quickly at Yuuri, perfectly in character. Yuuri bites his lip and tried to pull on some kind of character of his own as a shield against how horribly sick he feels right now.

“Where are you headed?” the policewoman asks. She’s still holding Viktor’s license.

“Oh, just to Huntly,” Viktor lies, “we’re having dinner with Yuuri’s parent’s.”

This is a stroke of genius. The policewoman sucks her teeth, looks back at the license. At that moment, the walkie talkie she has clipped to her waist buzzes. She shoots it an irritated glare, but steps away to answer it. Viktor nibbles at a hang nail on his thumb and glances back at Yuuri. Yuuri is taking deep breaths through his nose. Viktor’s calm and effortless acting has made him feel slightly better, but he still feels _awfully_ shaky.

‘It’ll be okay,’ Viktor mouths. Yuuri tries to believe him.

The policewoman is gone for several minutes. Something seems to be happening – Yuuri watches through the driver’s side window as the policeman on the other side of the road gets back into his car. At last the policewoman comes back, and returns Viktor’s license.

“You’re lucky,” she says, “we’re closing the stop now. You really ought to be getting a ticket, even if you are family. There’s been an accident in Huntly, so I’m afraid you’re probably going to be late to dinner.”

She walks away then, to collect a road cone. Yuuri can’t believe their luck. He stares open mouthed at Viktor, who quickly takes the handbrake off and drives on down the road. They are overtaken almost immediately by both police cars, who have their sirens and lights on as they head off to the crash.

“Holy shit,” Viktor says, “my hands are shaking! Look!” He holds out his left hand towards Yuuri in demonstration. It is, indeed, trembling.

“Oh my God,” is all that Yuuri can say.

Viktor drives another kilometre before he pulls off the motorway down a country road to the nearest shoulder, where he pulls over properly.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” he says again, and glances over at Yuuri. Yuuri presses a hand to his mouth.

“I can’t believe we got away with that,” he says, “Viktor, that was _terrifying_!”

“I know!” Viktor agrees emphatically, and starts to laugh. Yuuri joins in. It is stress and disbelief – Yuuri’s stomach still feels like it’s filled with water, but the anxiety has been replaced with relief. Viktor picks up his hand and kisses his knuckle haphazardly, still chuckling. Yuuri feels the casual brush of Viktor’s lips on his like tiny little sparkles of static electricity.

“Hey,” Viktor says, looking up with a wink, “hear that, though? We’re family!”

“Viktor, we’ve been dating for, like, six weeks,” Yuuri says. He smiles as he says it, and hopes that the novelty of saying those words never wears of.

“Right,” Viktor laughs, “I guess you only count as my family if we’re defacto right?”

“I guess so?” Yuuri says. Viktor huffs and reaches across the seats to wrap and arm around Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri is still wearing his seatbelt so he cannot collapse completely against Viktor’s side, but the side hug is still more than pleasant. He smiles into Viktor’s neck, and Viktor kisses the top of his head.

“You’re family, Yuuri,” he says. In response to this, Yuuri kisses Viktor’s neck. He hits a ticklish spot there and Viktor shies away, laughing. Both of the boys are calmer now, having recovered from the stressful experience with the police, so Viktor starts the engine again.

“Better avoid Huntly,” he says wryly, “I think we can get back down this road?”

 

They cannot.

After an hour of detouring down windy country roads, they eventually make it back home. Dusk is falling now, and the sky is a soft mauve. The streetlights are starting to come on as they drive into the city, and Yuuri watches them out of the windows.

“It’s beautiful, hmmn?” he says to Viktor.

“Yeah,” Viktor says softly. He glances quickly across at Yuuri – he can never look for too long at his passenger when he’s driving or he’d swerve off the road, but there’s nothing to stop Yuuri from staring endlessly at Viktor. He looks his fill of Viktor’s side profile, and every few minutes Viktor glances across at him with a soft smile.

“Thanks for today, Viktor,” Yuuri says softly, “it was amazing.”

“No problem, Yuuri,” Viktor replies, “it was my pleasure, believe me.”

When Viktor pulls up outside of Yuuri’s house, he unbuckles both of their seatbelts so he can pull Yuuri in for a kiss. It is still so new, kissing Viktor. Being the one that Viktor wants to kiss.

Viktor pulls back far too quickly, and Yuuri pouts at him.

“Help, that’s adorable. But your sister is in the garden,” Viktor grimaces.

“Damn it,” Yuuri glances behind him. Sure enough, Mari is weeding the roses. Or at least, she was weeding the roses. She’s sitting back on her heels now, watching them. When she sees Yuuri looking at her she gives him a cheery wave. Yuuri sighs as he turns back to Viktor.

“Guess I’d better go,” he says. Viktor nods, and tips his head back against the headrest.

“See you on Monday?” he asks. Yuuri nods, and can’t resist kissing Viktor one more time.

Yuuri very deliberately doesn’t watch Viktor drive away. Instead, he strolls past Mari and ignores her when she teases him.

 

* * *

 

 

When Yuuri wakes up in the morning on the first day of the holidays, his first thought is: fear.

This confuses him, because it’s just a normal Monday, so why –?

But then he remembers – he’s doing that drama course with Viktor, and it starts today. Yuuri rolls over and pulls his blanket over his head. He’s been keeping his worry about it as supressed as possible, putting it down to nerves and assuming that they would go away. But this doesn’t feel like simple nerves. Yuuri would dearly love to not get out of bed today. It seems like a daunting prospect.

He watches the clock tick over until his phone buzzes with a text from Viktor, saying that he’s on his way. Yuuri knows he can’t procrastinate any longer, and finally forces himself out of bed and into the shower. By the time he’s finished, Viktor has arrived and is chatting with Mari in the hallway.

“Sorry,” Yuuri apologises as he zips behind them wearing only his towel. Mari attempts to cover Viktor’s eyes as he whistles at Yuuri’s retreating backside. When Yuuri emerges, damp but at least fully clothed, Mari presents him with a piece of toast and kicks him out the door.

“Sorry again,” Yuuri apologises to Viktor as they walk across the lawn to the car, “I had difficulty getting out of bed this morning.”

He doesn’t elaborate as to why – for some reason, he can’t quite tell Viktor how he feels. He’s doing this for Viktor anyway, because he was asked, and he doesn’t want to ruin things for his boyfriend. So he twists his seatbelt between his hands on the car to the University, and when Viktor asks him if he’s okay, he nods and smiles and lies through his teeth.

In reality, by the time they get to the theatre where the course is to be held, Yuuri is shaky and sweating. He really, really doesn’t want to be here. They pause before the door, and Viktor squeezes his hand for a moment. It helps calm Yuuri down a little, but not an awful lot.

Inside there are about ten people sitting at various intervals on chairs set in a line in the middle of the floor. They are of varying ages and appearances, and they all stare as Viktor and Yuuri walk in. The directors of the program are conversing by a table in the corner, and they come over to greet Viktor and Yuuri, and to give them nametags. Viktor is charming. Yuuri is silent.

They go to sit beside an auburn-headed young woman, who Viktor starts chatting with about some show or other that they might have both been in at some point in the past. Yuuri sits on his chair, and watches everyone arrive.

Once the full group of participants have arrived, the directors – called Lainey and Tom – get everyone to stand up and make them all walk around and introduce themselves to everyone else. Yuuri can’t quite get up the strength to leave Viktor’s side, which makes him feel weak and needy. It irritates him, to be like this.

Viktor doesn’t seem to mind, can’t seem to sense that anything is wrong. He keeps looking over at Yuuri, but he smiles every time, so he can’t be that worried.

Yuuri knots his fingers together in the pocket of his hoodie. If he keeps his focus on the movement, maybe he’ll be alright. Maybe he’ll be able to stay calm and collected.

“Are you okay?” Viktor asks. Yuuri glances wildly towards him, but sees that Viktor is just asking him in the general sense, rather than the ‘I-can-sense-you’re-on-the-brink-of-an-anxiety-attack’ kind of way. Yuuri tries out a shaky smile and nods.

“Yeah,” he says. His voice sounds a little odd to his ears, but Viktor nods and gives him a thumbs up, which indicates that Viktor _definitely_ can’t tell anything is wrong. Yuuri wonders why Viktor felt the need to check up on him, but the reason becomes very clear the next moment.

Yuuri is looking down at the floor, so has no advance warning – does not see Viktor peering around, does not see the look in his eye that has served as an effective warning in the past.

When Viktor yells, very loudly, “Everybody look at Yuuri!”, Yuuri is not expecting it. The group is small, only 20 people, and all of them turn and stare at him. Yuuri looks up from the black-painted floor into the blank faces of a whole group of intimidating strangers.

For a second it is like the world has stopped turning – everything inside of him goes perfectly still. Then his heart kicks into overdrive, going so fast it is physically painful. His throat is constricting, the dig of his nails into his palms isn’t grounding him enough, someone is talking to him – is it Viktor? Oh God.

He stands frozen for a moment, trying to find the strength to move his legs. What had been borderline, what had been the edge of a knife between more simple nerves and claustrophobic anxiety, has tipped totally over the edge.

He can’t even say anything. Leaving seems daunting, but he knows in a distant sort of way that if he stays here he will cry. And that would be worse, in front of all these strangers. His eyes are already burning, blurring the sight of his feet and the wall and the door as he slams his way into the hallway and around the corner.

He knows – he _knows_ – that Viktor couldn’t possibly have known. He gave Viktor permission to do this weeks ago, put his hand in Viktor’s and said ‘I trust you’. And it’s worked, on the whole, and his trust has not been misplaced, but Yuuri _feels_ like it has. It isn’t Viktor’s fault, it’s Yuuri’s for not communicating his feelings, but that’s pretty hard to do when he doesn’t even know what they are in the first place.

He stops halfway down the hallway, presses his hands to his mouth. Is he trying to prevent himself from throwing up, or from screaming? His vision is blurry, but he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s crying or if it’s because he’s shaking so hard the world is coming undone. The hallway is too bright, his heartbeat in his ears too loud. He’s going to pass out, he’s going to die, his mind is stuck on a loop on a loop on a loop.

“Yuuri,” Viktor appears at the end of the hallway at a run. Yuuri turns in time to see him skid to a stop, grabbing onto the wall for balance.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurts, “I’m so, so sorry, I never – I was just trying to make you feel more comfortable, I didn’t –”

“Please don’t,” Yuuri says weakly. Everything is still shaky and awful and he just wants to go _home_. Slowly, he slides his back down the wall until he lands on the ground hard. He wraps his arms around his knees and tries to remember how to breathe.

“Okay,” Viktor says. He moves tentatively down the hallway and sits down opposite Yuuri. He mimics Yuuri’s posture, arms wrapped around his knees as he watches Yuuri anxiously. The fingers of both Viktor’s hands are pressed to his mouth.

Even sitting on the floor with his head between his knees, waves of panic keep crashing over him, making him shake. He reaches out a hand towards Viktor, needing something familiar to ground him. When Viktor doesn’t respond, Yuuri flaps his hand until Viktor kneels cautiously at some distance, and takes his hand.

“I, I don’t really know what to do,” he stammers. He looks shocked and maybe a little uncomfortable at Yuuri’s very obvious display of emotion, “I’m not good with people crying, I…”

“I want to go home,” Yuuri interrupts. There is a pause. Yuuri glances up. Viktor looks torn, as though he would like to stay – but of course he would, Yuuri chides himself. This is his dream, this is what he wants to do, Yuuri is just ruining this for him.

“Yuuri,” he says cautiously, “do you think you might be able to try?”

Yuuri is silent for a long time. He just sits with his cheek presses against the inside of his knee, gulping in air and trying to fight down his nausea. Slowly, Viktor edges closer.

“Yuuri,” he whispers when he gets close enough, “I’m so sorry, I –”

“Don’t,” Yuuri grumbles again.

“Why won’t you let me apologise?” Viktor says, in a direct echo of another disagreement, in another time. Yuuri fixates on this memory, on the feel of Viktor’s hair beneath his fingers, on how everything was still warm and glittery and unknown.

“Because I’m not mad at you,” he says. And he isn’t, really. He’s mad at himself, for being…the way he is. For being an abject failure. For ruining everything, all the time. Viktor is close enough now for Yuuri to drop his knee and pitch sideways against Viktor’s shoulder. Viktor wraps am arm around him to keep him upright, but otherwise does nothing.

“That’s not –” he says, “I mean – I still did something wrong.”

“No,” Yuuri mumbles, “you didn’t. You had no way of knowing I was already freaking out.”

“I did, though!” Viktor says, “Yuuri, I knew you weren’t comfortable, but I thought that it was just shyness, I didn’t _think_. I should have read the signs and I didn’t.” He sounds frustrated – for a second, Yuuri thinks that Viktor is frustrated at _him_ , before the rational part of his brain finally gets a word in edgeways and reminds him that Viktor is frustrated with himself.

Sometimes, being an actor feels like too much effort. Acting in its purest form is like a release, but being around strange people and strange stages and the expectations of introversion that come with things like this…Yuuri kind of hates that part of it. Hates it so much that it makes him feel sick, it makes his heart beat in his throat and his mouth taste like blood, makes his vision blur and his hands shake and, and, and…

“I don’t know what to do,” Viktor says desperately, “do I just kiss you or something?”

Yuuri twitches away from Viktor slightly, irritated despite himself.

“No,” he snaps, “just – stay close to me.”

It is what he told Viktor, the second night of Production. It is what he needs when he is overwhelmed with emotion, but of course Viktor doesn’t _know_ that because Viktor doesn’t know anything.

“Okay,” Viktor murmurs. He presses his nose into Yuuri’s neck, gently drawing his attention away from his introversion, until Yuuri nudges his face away.

“I can take you home if you want,” Viktor says. Yuuri nods.

“I – I thought I could do this,” he says, “but I can’t. I just can’t.”

“That’s okay,” Viktor says. He looks a little disappointed, and Yuuri will beat himself up for that later, but now it will have to do. Yuuri is exhausted, and being in this hostile space is still making him incredibly tense. Viktor stands up (several of his joints crack, and he grimaces) and holds his hands out to Yuuri to get him on his feet.

“I just have to go and get my bag,” he says, and tips his head to the closed theatre door.

“Please, come back,” Yuuri says.

“Of course I’m going to come back,” Viktor says blankly.

“No, I mean – don’t let me ruin this for you. When you’ve dropped me off at home, you should come back.”

Viktor pauses. He is tempted, Yuuri knows he is.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” Yuuri says, “no, I refuse to be a burden. You _will_ come back.”

If he can’t do it, he’s going to make damn well sure that Viktor will. Yuuri will _not_ be responsible for holding Viktor back. He may be an average actor at best, but Viktor is a star, and Yuuri absolutely refuses to dull Viktor’s light just because he wants attention.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Viktor says, “I need to get my bag anyway, it has my keys in it.”

Yuuri nods, and sits down again to wait for Viktor. He feels absolutely drained. Another tear leaks out of his eye for no obvious reason, and he dashes it away with an irritated flick of his wrist.

Viktor comes back quickly – Yuuri assumes this means that he offered no explanation for his departure, which is quite comforting. He’s removes his keys from the inside pocket of his bag and is jangling them from right hand to left.

Yuuri walks beside him quietly as they walk back down the warren of corridors and outside onto the campus. The University semester is still ongoing, but it is between hours. There aren’t an awful lot of people around, and the ones they do see are too busy living their own lives to spare a glance for Yuuri and Viktor. Yuuri just looks at the ground, and is more and more relieved the further they get from the windowless little theatre.

 

When they get home, Viktor follows Yuuri inside.

“I meant it,” Yuuri says, turning on him and pushing him gently back towards the front door, “you should go back.”

“Tomorrow,” Viktor says easily. Yuuri blinks at him, and he smiles a little half-smile, his head tilted to the side.

“I’ll be there for four days of the course,” he continues, “that’s enough. You need me far more than they do, anyway,” he says with a shrug.

“But,” Yuuri says, “you need it!”

“No I don’t,” Viktor says, “I already know I’m brilliant. I’m only doing the course because it will look good on my _application_ for drama school.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says. There is a headache starting to form above his left eye, and although he feels a lot more relaxed now that he’s home, he’s also starting to feel guilty about bailing. There are just a lot of confusing feelings in general gathering in his ribcage.

“Come on,” Viktor kicks off his shoes and starts walking towards Yuuri’s bedroom, “we can just lie in bed for the rest of the day.”

Yuuri stares after him for a second, but then sighs and follows. He knows how to pick his battles, and this is not one that he is likely to win. If he’s being honest with himself, it’s also not one that he _wants_ to win. Yuuri Katsuki is a selfish human being, after all. What he wants right now is to curl up in bed in a dimly lit bedroom, snuggled up against Viktor. He’s not going to turn that opportunity down.

When he gets to the bedroom, Viktor has already dropped his bag in the corner and flopped down on his bed. Yuuri closes his curtains again and crawls into bed without hesitation. Viktor watches him as he nestles down beneath the blankets and buries his face in the pillow. At last his body fully relaxes. Here, he is finally safe.

Yuuri can’t see what Viktor is doing as he burrows down, but after a moment Viktor stretches out fully beside him and positions himself so that his head is tucked up against Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Are we napping?” he asks.

“Mmn,” Yuuri’s voice is muffled by the pillow.

“Okay,” Viktor says.

Yuuri listens to his breathing, hears when he falls asleep – his breath changes, slows, becomes deeper. Yuuri envies Viktor’s ability to fall asleep so quickly. Yuuri pushes himself up slightly on one elbow so that he can look at Viktor. The dim light filtering in the window makes Viktor’s platinum hair glow, and the planes of his face are dark with shadow. His mouth is open, and Yuuri is fairly sure that he’s drooling a little bit.

He looks lower – traces the lines of Viktor’s neck, the sharp jut of his clavicle visible just above the collar of his sweater. The sweater itself has slipped down off of his shoulder, and Yuuri can see the very top edge of his birthmark. In the light, it looks rosier than usual.

Lower still, part of Viktor’s sweater has ruched up in the curve of his waist. A tiny sliver of skin at his hip is exposed. Yuuri slides slightly further up in bed, sits up a little bit more, and stares long and hard at Viktor’s butt. After that, a casual examination of his thighs and calves yields slightly less impressive results, but all the same. Yuuri looks at Viktor’s face again, so peaceful in the muted morning light.

He will still be there when Yuuri wakes up. Smiling slightly to himself, he snuggles back down in his duvet and drifts off to sleep.

 

As a matter of fact, he is not there when Yuuri wakes up about an hour later. He has migrated to the floor, where he is splayed out with his legs and arms spread wide, squinting at a random manga that he’s plucked off of Yuuri’s shelf.

“You could have turned the light on, you know,” Yuuri says.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Viktor says. He doesn’t look up, but Yuuri can see a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“I probably wouldn’t have noticed,” Yuuri confesses, and Viktor huffs out a little laugh. Since he doesn’t look like he’s going to be getting up any time soon, Yuuri decides to go to him. He kicks back the blanket and slithers down onto the floor. Viktor at last puts the manga down and looks at him. His ponytail is all mussed.

Yuuri untangles it for him, and smooths it out. Viktor is like a cat being petted – if he were physically capable, Yuuri is quite sure he would be purring. When Yuuri is finished untangling Viktor’s hair, he bundles it up and tucks it over Viktor’s left shoulder, so that he can press his lips to Viktor’s right shoulder. Viktor isn’t expecting it, and his breath catches.

Yuuri leaves a trail of butterfly kisses across Viktor’s shoulder and up his neck to underneath his ear. Maybe it’s not being able to see Viktor’s face from this angle that makes this easier. Yuuri is not uncomfortable about physical intimacy with Viktor, but sometimes he still gets embarrassed at taking the lead or initiating things. But like this, kneeling behind his boyfriends back and nipping lightly at the pulse point in his throat, Viktor can’t see the blush on Yuuri’s cheeks. Which is just how Yuuri likes it, really.

Yuuri slides his left hand underneath Viktor’s sweater, brushing his fingers lightly up Viktor’s spine. Goosebumps erupt under his touch as Viktor shivers, which makes Yuuri smile into the bruising kisses he is leaving all over Viktor’s neck. Pulling back slightly, he uses his free hand to push down the neck of Viktor’s sweater so that his birthmark comes into view.

Viktor swears under his breath when Yuuri kisses that too, and Yuuri pauses.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “did that hurt?”

“Ah, no,” Viktor says, slightly breathless, “it’s just – it’s hypersensitive.”

“ _Ah_ ,” Yuuri says.

The next kisses he presses to the port-wine mark are open mouthed. Viktor hisses and squirms, but tells Yuuri not to stop. After a while, Viktor does nudge him out of the way, so that he can just take his sweater off. Yuuri sits back on his heels and helps Viktor tug the garment over his head and pass it to him. He holds it in his hands for a moment, examining the embroidered logo on the front.

“I never did get what this double c thing is,” he says. Viktor turns around and stares at him incredulously.

“It’s Chanel,” he says, “it’s the logo for Chanel. How did you not know that?”

“I don’t know anything about fashion,” Yuuri rolls his eyes, and tosses the sweater sideways, “it looks better on my bedroom floor, anyway.”

He kisses Viktor, so that Viktor won’t see his face flame from the slightly daring remark. Viktor doesn’t need to see his face to react to it, though. He turns around so that he is at last facing Yuuri, and presses him back so that he is half-slumped against his own bedside table. It is not the most comfortable position in the world, but with Viktor’s hand splayed across his stomach underneath his shirt, Yuuri isn’t about to complain.

Eventually, they do make it down far enough that they are lying horizontal. Viktor manoeuvres one of his knees between Yuuri’s legs and bites down on Yuuri’s bottom lip. Yuuri’s hands are down Viktor’s pants at this point, and for some reason he cannot suppress the urge to say: “You have a really nice butt.”

Viktor pauses and rears back slightly, so he can examine Yuuri with a startled eye.

“Um,” Yuuri blinks up at him, wonders whether it would be appropriate in the moment to pat said butt.

Viktor bursts out laughing and rolls away from Yuuri so he can clutch at his sides as he giggles into Yuuri’s bedroom rug.

“I – didn’t think it was that funny?” Yuuri is totally nonplussed.

“Yuuri, you have the best sense of comic timing,” Viktor says. He presses his palms underneath his eyes to smudge away his laughter tears as he sits back upright.

“Yees,” Yuuri says slowly, “I do usually try not to carry it over into real life situations though. Tends to kill the mood.”

“Well,” Viktor shrugs, “that’s debatable.”

“Debatable that I bring it to real life, or debatable that it kills the mood?” Yuuri asks. Viktor just shakes his head as he pulls Yuuri in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait longer before posting this - like, longer than three days maybe??? - but turns out I'm impatient as hell. lbr, the rest of the fic will have been uploaded within the week.  
> also this chapter makes the setting of this fic glaringly obvious bc I forgot to change the name of the town so anyone even remotely familiar with the country in which I live.......they will Know


	3. rose water & rum

Yuuri wakes up early on Tuesday morning, quite accidentally. He feels stretchy and soft and warm and completely relaxed and for once, his head is completely clear and coherent. Just for a moment, he indulges in remembering the better parts of the day before.

 

_“Viktor,” Yuuri says cautiously. They have migrated to the bed now, and Viktor’s face is pressed against the bare skin of his stomach. Yuuri swallows. “I’ve never…”_

_“Had sex?” Viktor supplies helpfully._

_“Um. Yeah.”_

_“Yeah, I know,” Viktor says cheerfully._

_“Oh God,” Yuuri gapes at him, “am I that bad?”_

_“No, no,” Viktor says hastily, “not at all! It’s just, I mean, I know you’ve never been in a relationship before, and you told me I was your first kiss, so, I mean. Obviously you haven’t had sex.”_

_“Ah,” Yuuri says, and then pauses, “I’m not bad, am I?”_

_“Um, definitely not,” Viktor says, very decisively. He pushes his hair out of his eyes, and sits up properly._

_“To be honest,” he says, “I’ve never had sex with a guy either.”_

_“Wait – really?”_

_“Mmn,” Viktor shrugs, “it’s okay though. I’ve_ received _several blowjobs in my life, so I’m fairly confident I could do a pretty good job with that.”_

_“Viktor!” Yuuri buries his face in his hands, embarrassed by Viktor’s casual nonchalance. He’s also trying quite hard not to think about that in too much detail, because otherwise…_

_“I can try it out, if you like,” Viktor says. His tone is more serious now, and Yuuri moves his hands a little down his face so he can see. Viktor folds his knees under himself and then sits sideways, propped up on his right hand. He reaches his left hand out towards Yuuri’s face, and pushes his hair back. His expression is serious, but there’s a little flirtatious quirk to his mouth that sends fizzing shocks throughout Yuuri’s body._

_“Yeah,” Yuuri says, nodding slowly, “Yeah, I – I’d like that.”_

_“Good,” Viktor says, and smiles before leaning in to push Yuuri onto his back with a kiss._

Yuuri turns his face into the pillow to hide his smile at the memory, even though he is alone in his bedroom. But eventually the smile slides off his face as he realises what he has to do. With a sigh, he puts his glasses on, and sets about writing a text to Viktor.

It takes him a surprisingly long time to compose the message. In the end he just settles on the simple:

 

**+(642)19366161**

_Can u come & pick me up?_

The iMessage typing bubble pops up almost immediately, but it is several anxious minutes before Viktor sends his message. Yuuri stares at his phone anxiously as Viktor types. He has had a total change of heart about the course – or maybe his mind was just at work on the problem overnight. He needs to give it a second chance, not just for Viktor, but for himself too. Finally, Viktor replies.

 

**Viktor <33**

_Are you sure??????? Xx_

**+(642)19366161**

_I think so_

**Viktor <33**

_Ok xx I’ll be there in 15 ish :-) Xx_

So that’s that.

When Viktor arrives he texts Yuuri to let him know he’s on the curb, and Yuuri goes out to meet him. There has been an early frost in the night, and the grass is still crusted with ice. It melts beneath Yuuri’s feet as he walks.

“Hey,” he says as he opens the door and tosses his bag in the bag. Viktor is nibbling on the skin around his pinky finger.

“Are you sure?” he asks again. Yuuri nods, then shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” he sighs, “but I need to try. I’ll hate myself even more if I don’t.”

“I wish you didn’t,” Viktor sighs.

“Didn’t – what? Do you not want me to come or something?”

“No!” Viktor looks startled, “that’s not what I meant! You said you’d hate yourself even more – I wish you didn’t hate yourself at all!”

Yuuri has a fatalistic streak which rarely emerges, but when it does it always seems to make Viktor sad or uncomfortable, which in turn makes Yuuri sad and uncomfortable. This is one of those times.

“Don’t worry about it, Viktor,” he says.

“What, am I not allowed to worry about you?”

“Well you are I guess,” Yuuri says, “but like. Ugh. Whatever.”

Viktor stares at him for a second longer, then looks away and finally turns the car on again. They travel in silence all the way to the University, each simmering quietly without acknowledgement.

Yuuri is too irritated with Viktor to even be nervous, which is a blessing in disguise. There are only a few people in the theatre when they arrive, and although they shoot Viktor and Yuuri curious glances, they have enough tact not to comment on the strange events of yesterday. Yuuri takes Viktor’s bag to stash in the corner whilst Viktor apologises to the directors and offers some sort of explanation.

For a moment Yuuri hovers in the corner, but then he bites the bullet and starts approaching the others, who make room for him without question.

They have missed some things, but it is not difficult for Yuuri and Viktor to pick up what they lack, and to settle into the rhythm of the day. It is hard work – Yuuri does not feel out of his depth in regards to his acting capabilities, but rather in terms of his experience.

The other people in the course are regulars at things like this. They are accustomed to acting with theatre companies around the city and surrounding towns, even if just in amateur work. Viktor of course fits right in, since he has been doing this sort of thing since he was a child. Yuuri has never acted outside of school, never been a part of a theatre community. So he feels a little left out, and a little awkward because he doesn’t know the lingo or understand the experiences.

In this least of all, Yuuri is immensely grateful to have Viktor. Viktor knows these sorts of people, is one of them – even knows some of them a little from past shows – but he also knows Yuuri. He would never let Yuuri be deliberately left out, and he includes him as naturally as he includes himself. They are, for all intents and purposes, to be treated as one entity.

Yuuri supposes that this will lessen over the next three days, as the directors seem very intent on challenging everyone. But there is some sort of grace period allowed for he and Viktor, it seems. This, in its own way, allows Yuuri to breathe. Although Viktor is always beside him, always talking and moving and laughing and showing off, he is also Yuuri’s enabler. Through him being there, Yuuri feels comfortable enough to be himself.

At lunch time on the first day, Viktor drags their bags off into a corner slightly separate from everyone else.

“Don’t you want to sit with them?” Yuuri asks. Viktor shrugs.

“I thought you might want a break,” he says, opening up his bag and withdrawing a very squashed chocolate muffin in a plastic bag. He examines it morosely.

Yuuri is touches at Viktor’s thoughtfulness.

“Yeah,” he sighs, sitting down on the ground in relief, “I really do.”

His lunch is rather less exciting – a hastily assembled sandwich and some crackers. He eyes Viktor’s muffin enviously until Viktor pulls off a messy chunk and hands it to him.

They eat in silence whilst Yuuri ponders his state of mind.

“Thanks for yesterday,” he says suddenly.

“Hmmn?”

“Thanks for coming home with me,” Yuuri explains, “it’s why I felt like coming back today, you know? I guess,” he pauses. His thought process is a little difficult to explain, but Viktor just munches on his muffin and waits patiently for Yuuri to sort his thoughts out.

“You were willing to give up something you really wanted to do, for me,” Yuuri explains, “so it’s like…I wanted to try and do better. To meet you half way. Or something.”

“Huh,” Viktor says, “was my dick that magical?”

“ _Jesus Christ, Viktor!”_ Yuuri hisses. He glances around, but no one else is close enough to have heard. He smashes both palms over his face, to hide the beetroot red of his cheeks. Viktor cackles away to himself as he shreds his muffin wrapper.

“Sorry, Yuuri,” he says, sounding completely unrepentant.

“I’m never going to try and have a serious conversation with you again,” Yuuri says into his hands.

“Well, if it helps,” Viktor says, “I will absolutely suck your dick every time you need a confidence boost.”

“Viktor, we’re in public?” Yuuri moans in panic. Viktor just laughs and laughs, propped up with his hands stretched out behind his back. His head is tipped back, and his platinum hair is pooling on the floor behind him.

“I actually hate you,” Yuuri informs him, “just so you know.”

“That’s sweet,” Viktor says, pressing a hand to his heart and fluttering his eyelashes, “I never knew you cared!”

Yuuri doesn’t dignify this with a response. He eats his sandwich in a few quick bites, and the course gets underway again.

 

The next three days are among the most exhausting of Yuuri’s life. The course is split into three parts every day. In the morning, they work on physical training, around noon they spend time on vocal training, and in the afternoon they do improvisation. Yuuri absolutely despises improvisation and isn’t much good at it, but Viktor is brilliant.

His brain seems like it’s hardwired to understand dramatic potential, and his quick thinking redeems many a scene.

As expected, by the last day, Yuuri is no longer working very closely with Viktor. He experiences twinges of separation anxiety, which is stupid because they’re literally in the same room, but he still finds this situation stressful and would have preferred to have Viktor around all the time.

But still, the people in his group are nice enough – there is David, a jolly and flamboyant man, around 20, who has a flair for accents. There is Skye, a dark girl with a wickedly black sense of humour. There is also Andreja, who is very tall and very blonde and quite alarmingly flexible.

For their final performances, they have to choreograph a scene involving all the elements they have learned. In all honestly Yuuri doesn’t feel like he’s learned overmuch. He’s just glad the whole thing is over.

After they perform, everyone gathers around for a pizza and they receive feedback on their performances throughout the week. Viktor makes a beeline for Yuuri, and tucks himself in beside his boyfriend as he reaches for a slice of pizza. Viktor has absolutely no problems with PDA, and Yuuri is so used to it now that it doesn’t faze him. The other members of the course don’t even bat an eye anymore when Viktor flings himself all over Yuuri. They are used to it, too.

“I don’t really want to hear what they have to say about me,” Yuuri mumbles to Viktor as the latter feeds him all the pieces of pineapple off of his pizza, “it’s probably nothing good. Why are you giving me these?”

“Don’t like them,” Viktor says blithely, “pineapple on pizza is just unnatural. Also you did fine, don’t worry!”

“You’re telling _me_ not to worry,” Yuuri rolls his eyes.

“Shh,” Viktor bops him on the nose.

To Yuuri’s surprise, the directors of the programme have nothing but praise to offer him. It warms his ego and his cheeks, and he gives them a small smile. Viktor, of course, is also lavishly awarded praise, which he accepts in his usual cheerful way.

“I’m glad that’s over,” he says to Yuuri as they collect their bags and leave the theatre.

“Huh?” Yuuri blinks across at him, “I thought you enjoyed yourself?”

“Oh, I did,” Viktor says, “but remind me to never again willingly subject myself to a week of early mornings _in the holidays_.”

“Oh, Viktor,” Yuuri laughs.

“What?” Viktor stops and stares at him, “what did I say?”

“You’re so…predictable?” Yuuri tries. Viktor shrugs.

“I never claimed to be anything but,” he says. His voice has a slight edge to it. Yuuri suddenly realises that he may be on shaky ground. Instead of continuing his line of reasoning, he reaches for Viktor’s hand and tugs him close. It’s getting dark early now, and in the gathering dusk Viktor’s hair is darker, the shadows of his face deeper.

Yuuri wants to tell Viktor that he adores him, wants to tell him that he is, quite honestly, the light of Yuuri’s life. But it feels like too much too soon, so he instead settled for kissing Viktor gently.

Although he very much enjoys making out with Viktor, sometimes Yuuri just likes simple kissing too. There’s something about the intimacy of tenderness. Yuuri smooths his hands down Viktor’s hips and leaves them there. Viktor touches his nose to Yuuri’s as he raises his hand to cup Yuuri’s cheek in a gentle caress, light as spring rain on his skin.

“Do you want to come back to my house?” Viktor asks Yuuri.

“I’m going to the beach with Phichit tomorrow,” Yuuri says.

“Mmn, I know. That’s why I asked.”

“Okay,” Yuuri strokes Viktor’s hair back from his forehead and grins up at him, “but can we stop at mine first to pick up some stuff?”

“Yeah,” Viktor steps back, and links their fingers back together again so they can walk back to his car. They walk in silence, enjoying the darkening purple of the laden sky, and each the presence of the other.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Viktor drops Yuuri off at home so he can finish packing. He’s going with Phichit to his family’s holiday place at the Mount. They’re going until Friday, and Yuuri is excited. It’s too cold for them to be able to swim, but it will be nice to just get away from everything for a while. Yuuri and Phichit plan to run up the mountain every day.

“See you next weekend,” Viktor says as he kisses Yuuri goodbye, “you’re still coming to Emil’s party, right?”

“Oh, I forgot about that,” Yuuri says, “sure I’ll come.”  
It’s on the Saturday before term starts again. Neither Leo, Guang-Hong or Phichit can make that night, so Yuuri will be alone amongst the year thirteens. He doesn’t mind anymore, since he has been absorbed into their friend group and it’s not like they’re scary or intimidating, but he likes to have his own friends at parties with him too. The year thirteens go hard when they drink, and it’s sometimes a little much.

“Okay, cool,” Viktor says, “I’ll see you then! Have a good trip, Yuuri.”

“I will,” Yuuri kisses Viktor once more, for luck, “have a good week yourself.”

“Blegh,” Viktor rolls his eyes, “I have absolutely zero plans, so I doubt it. I’ll just live vicariously through you.”

“Sure,” Yuuri laughs.

At last, Viktor lets him get out of the car, and Yuuri waits on the curb to wave Viktor goodbye before he goes inside to pack. He’ll miss Viktor, sure, but they’ll both be fine. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or something.

 

The next week passes quickly. Yuuri finally shakes off the last of the lingering anxiety and vague source-less embarrassment from the drama course, and throws himself into activities with Phichit. It is good to spend time alone with his best friend – it feels like there has been less and less time for it to be just the two of them the higher up in school they have become.

True to their plans, they run up the mountain every morning. It is a hard slog, but the view from the top is worth it, and Yuuri never gets sick of it. On Friday morning, he and Phichit stop to take photos.

“I haven’t posted anything on Instagram in a week,” Phichit complains, “I want to make my post for this last week cool!”

He directs Yuuri to stand on a rock and clambers up next to him to take a selfie. Behind them, there is a view over the ocean and the city. The sun is sparkling on the harbour. It is one of those glorious winter days where the sky is totally clear and the air is crisp. The light is perfect for taking photos.

“Phichit,” Yuuri complains, “I look terrible! I’m all sweaty!”

“So am I,” Phichit says happily, “now smile!”

Yuuri thinks he looks like he’s grimacing in pain (which he is – the long pause without a warm down is giving him cramp), but Phichit says the photo is perfect. They decide to walk back down the mountain instead of run. It really is a perfect way to end the holidays – being outside so much, soaking up nature, has helped Yuuri a great deal in clearing his head and relaxing after the stress of the first week.

As they skid down the gravel path on their way back down the mountain, they talk about anything and everything – their friends, their assignments, their families. Phichit is visiting his cousins in Morrisville for the last weekend of the holidays, and is looking forward to it. Yuuri listens as Phichit recounts stories of their various exploits.

“So I got him to just literally get _into_ the rose bush,” Phichit says, “totally disregarding the fact that roses have thorns…”

“Oh my God,” Yuuri groans.

“I know right? We were twelve, shit like that happens when you’re twelve – anyway, he actually got in too! Just, like, dived straight into this massive shrub!”

“Did you mum kill you?”

“Oh yeah. His mum and my mum were standing there, wrapping him in Dettol and Band-Aids and screaming at me. It was great.”

“That doesn’t exactly sound like my idea of great,” Yuuri says as he nearly twists his ankle on an unnaturally large piece of gravel.

“Yeah, well, your idea of great is probably Viktor’s dick,” Phichit teases.

Yuuri slips several inches down the path in shock.

“How did you know about that?” he yelps as he rounds on his friend. Phichit’s face is blank.

“Huh?” he says. Yuuri realises that he has made a grave error.

“Nothing!” he says quickly.

“…wait,” Phichit says slowly, as realisation dawns, “Yuuri, are you saying –”

“Nope, absolutely not, you heard nothing, goodbye,” Yuuri says, damning himself to hell for his reaction.

“Yuuri!” Phichit screeches from behind him as Yuuri breaks into a run.

It is a shame that Phichit has the build of a sprinter rather than a long-distance runner – he catches up to Yuuri in a matter of seconds.

“Yuuri!” he wails, as they both skid and slip down the slopes of the mountain, “Yuuri, did you have sex without telling me?!”

A woman passing them on her way up the mountain does a double take. Yuuri would like to die, right here and right now.

“Yuuri, you can’t keep running!” Phichit pants, “we’re going to the same place! And I know where you live!”

“Urgh,” Yuuri slows to a walk again. Phichit shoots past him, then slows down and doubles back. The look on his face is triumphant.

“I am _not_ giving you details,” Yuuri waggles his finger at his friend.

“Aww,” Phichit pouts, “but that’s the point Yuuri! I need to live vicariously through you!”

“Um, did I ask for every single detail about you and Cass?” Yuuri hits back. Phichit just shrugs.

“But you’re the soft squashy virgin of the friend group,” he says, “and also your boyfriend is like, the hottest ever probably. So I need every detail!”

“I am _not_ the soft squashy virgin,” Yuuri says, affronted. They are nearly down the mountain now – he can hear cars passing on the beach road.

“Well, not anymore you’re not!” Phichit snorts. Yuuri gives him a Look. Phichit just cackles.

“Well,” Yuuri gives into the inevitable. He stops to stretch, propping his foot up on the top of a fence post and folding himself over his leg. Phichit mimics him, and for a moment they are both silent. They are on the other side of the mountain now, and although they cannot see the city from here, their view of the ocean stretches away all the way up the coast. The mountains that separate the coast from the centre of the island stretch tall, dark green and jagged. There is a cloud obscuring the top of them – they are high enough to be a microclimate all of their own, and it must be raining up there.

“It was last week,” Yuuri says eventually, “so it’s kind of a recent development.” He smiles into his knee – a private smile, secret and small, at the recollection.

“Uh huh,” Phichit says. He swaps legs.

“Well, it was – I had a bit of a shit day, right? And I dunno, Viktor was at my house and we napped together and then…” he trails off.

“And then what?” Phichit prompts. Yuuri glares at him from underneath his own outstretched arm. Phichit is unapologetically nosy, but Yuuri does love him for it. So Yuuri tells him – he can’t and won’t say everything, but Phichit is genuinely happy for him, and anyway, it _is_ kind of fun to gossip about it.

“Please don’t tell anyone though,” Yuuri warns as they walk up the road back to Phichit’s holiday house.

“Can I tell G and Leo?” Phichit asks. Yuuri shrugs.

“I guess,” he says, “maybe it will be better that way – save me the cringiness of having to talk about my sex life more than is necessary.”

“Wow,” Phichit muses, “I can’t believe you just said ‘my’ and ‘sex life’ in the same sentence.”

“Neither can I,” Yuuri confesses.

He is used to how his life has become, used to Viktor and used to his new year thirteen friends and used to the new challenges and adventures. But all the same – there is a little bit of unreality sometimes, in acclimatising to the person he has become in the last six months. Not that Yuuri would change any of it – not for the world.

 

* * *

 

Phichit’s parents drop Yuuri off at home on Friday afternoon, before waving him goodbye as they head off to Morrisville. The next night – Saturday – is Emil’s party. Yuuri is still a little wary of going, but he dutifully raids the fridge for drinks. At the very least, it will be good to see his boyfriend again. Viktor turns up at 8pm, texting Yuuri to say he’s arrived.

“Bye,” Yuuri sticks his head into the living room, where his parents are watching television, “I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, have fun,” his mother says.

“Don’t stay out too late,” his father says, with a wink that indicates he knows that Yuuri will, in fact, be out very late.

“Hey,” Yuuri says as he opens the car door, “oh, you look nice.”

Viktor is wearing a new shirt that Yuuri hasn’t seen before. It is the same bright aquamarine as his eyes.

“Thanks,” Viktor grins, “hey, I missed you!”

“I missed you too,” Yuuri gets in and shuts the door behind him. Viktor leans over and kisses him hello, and then kisses him a bit more, and then it is half past eight and they are quite decidedly late.

“Oops,” Viktor grimaces as he finally starts the car, “oh well. We’re fashionably late.”

“So, like you, all the time?” Yuuri teases.

“Shut up,” Viktor glances over at him with a smile, “I’m never late, everyone else is just early.”

“Did you just quote the princess diaries?” Yuuri asks.

“Um, absolutely not. Also how did you know that?” Viktor laughs.

“My sister loves that movie,” Yuuri explains, “and to be honest, so do I. It’s funny.”

“And Mia’s boyfriend is hot, right?” Viktor exclaims.

“Oh yeah,” Yuuri agrees. They exchange a glance in the dark – although Yuuri can’t really see Viktor’s face very well, he knows that Viktor is looking at him too. When Viktor turns his gaze back to the road, Yuuri reaches out and rests his hand on Viktor’s thigh. They pass under a streetlight, and Yuuri can see a flash of teeth as Viktor grins.

 

As it turns out, they aren’t that late. Heaps of people are later than they are. Emil just shrugs when Yuuri apologises.

“The event page said eight,” he says, “which means that it really starts at nine!”

Viktor slings his arm around Yuuri’s waist as Yuuri opens their bottles off of each other, and then hands Viktor’s to him.

“Thanks babe,” Viktor says, and kisses him on the cheek. Viktor only ever seems to call him by pet names like this when they are at parties – Yuuri suspects that it is his subtle way of marking his territory. It is immensely endearing.

There are quite a few people at the party that Yuuri doesn’t know, and he is taken around and introduced to all of them as ‘Viktor’s boyfriend’. All of the people he meets – whose faces all blur together, whose names he forgets as soon as he learns them, nod and smile, and say various forms of: “Aah, so this is him!”

“How often do you talk about me?” a nonplussed Yuuri asks Viktor, “everyone already seems to know who I am!”

“Ah, well,” Viktor loops his hair up behind his head as he stretches. They are standing in the hallway, waiting in line for the bathroom.

“He talks about you all the bloody time,” Georgi, emerging from the bathroom, overhears Yuuri’s question, “to anyone who will listen – it’s Yuuri this and Yuuri that. He’d probably carry a picture around of you in his wallet if he could.”

“How do you know I don’t do that already?” Viktor teases.

“Please tell me that you don’t,” Georgi deadpans, and turns towards Yuuri, “please tell me that he doesn’t!”

“I – I wouldn’t know,” Yuuri glances over at Viktor, “I didn’t even know that everyone else here would know.”

“He wants to be your trophy husband,” Georgi calls over his shoulder as he walks away. Yuuri blinks, and then turns bodily around to stare at Viktor better. It’s hard to tell in the gloom, but Yuuri is fairly sure Viktor has gone beet red.

“Do you really?” Yuuri teases.

“I’m going to kill Georgi,” Viktor mumbles into his palms. With a sigh, he looks up and tosses his hair out of his face. Viktor is so rarely embarrassed, Yuuri finds it incredibly endearing whenever someone manages to get under Viktor’s skin.

“No, it’s sweet,” Yuuri says, “I like it.”

“Good,” Viktor says, “since it would be a bit awkward being your trophy husband if you didn’t consent to our marriage.”

Yuuri chokes a little.

“Well,” he says, “you’re not wrong.”

The two girls who had been in line before them emerge giggling, and Yuuri slips into the bathroom. When he emerges, both girls are there, still talking to Viktor.

“You’re not _really_ though, are you?” the blonde girl slurs.

“Yeah, Viktor,” the other girl, who has short brown hair, folds her arms and pouts, “I can’t believe _you_ of all people would commit.”

“Mmn, well,” Viktor smiles mildly. Seeing Yuuri has emerged, he slides quickly away from the girls and into the bathroom. He grimaces at Yuuri as he closes the door. Yuuri stands still, thinking about what the girls had been saying. They both glance over at him. One of them smiles, but she doesn’t look like the means it. They slope away, and Yuuri is left in the hallway alone.

“What did they mean?” Yuuri asks Viktor when he emerges.

“Huh?”

“Those girls?” Yuuri presses.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Viktor shrugs, “I can’t even remember what they were talking about. Let’s go and dance, Yuuri!”

Yuuri lets himself be tugged back into the living room, but through the soft haze of tipsiness, he is a little disquieted. From everything he knows about Viktor, it is not hard to piece together what he must have been like in relationships before. He hasn’t asked, and no one has told him anything directly, but Yuuri guesses that theirs is the first committed relationship Viktor has ever been in. And yet Viktor has had plenty of experience with kissing and other slightly more carnal things.

“Yuuri,” Viktor tugs on his arm. He is spinning like a whirligig, bottle in hand. Softly, warmly, aglow from the inside.

“Why do you look sad, Yuuri? This is a _party_ ,” Viktor insists. For now, Yuuri shoves his doubts aside. He takes Viktor’s bottle and drains it. Viktor watches him with a smirk.

“Are you planning to get totally fucked tonight, Yuuri?” he asks.

“One way or another,” Yuuri says, as Viktor pulls him onto the dancefloor.

 

It is an hour, or twenty minutes, or three hours and fifteen minutes later. Time has lost all meaning. Everything is blurry – Yuuri’s head is spinning and he can barely stand. They are talking about alcohol preferences. Viktor is standing on a piano stool.

“As if I, a Russian, would ever drink anything _other_ than vodka,” Viktor declares passionately, waving his glass – filled with orange juice and about three shots worth of said vodka.

“Vitya, you’re drunk,” Yuuri laughs.

“I know, isn’t it glorious?” Viktor drains his glass and deposits it with a clatter on top of the piano. He then nearly slips getting off the stool. This is probably actually a deliberate ploy, as he stumbles into Yuuri’s arms.

“Hello,” he says lowly, winding his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders. He takes a step back, hits the back of his knees on the piano stool, and sits down very suddenly. Yuuri falls on top of him.

“I swear this wasn’t deliberate,” Viktor laughs.

“That sounds fake,” Yuuri says – but since he is here, and since Viktor is here, he takes the opportunity to kiss Viktor.

Drunk Viktor always kisses like he’s starving. Drunk Yuuri likes to take it slow. He refuses to let Viktor set the pace, kissing only slowly, gently.

When Viktor says his name, it is with a breathless edge, obscenely intimate. Yuuri tugs on Viktor’s hair.

“Shh,” he says, and kisses himself a little trail from Viktor’s collar to the base of his ear.

But then there is a shriek from the other room, and everyone gets up to go an investigate. Sara has dropped a glass, and in the kerfuffle, Yuuri loses Viktor. But he doesn’t really care – he finds himself in the kitchen mixing drinks with Sara, who is far less intimidating now that they are both drunk.

She tells him stories about all the boys she has dated behind Mickey’s back as she splashes rum into a glass and adds a strange pink syrup from a glass bottle.

“I don’t know if this will taste any good,” she says as she slides it across the bench towards Yuuri. He picks it up and takes a generous mouthful. The pink syrup turns out to be rose. It is a strange combination, but certainly not the worst thing Yuuri has ever tasted.

He is the drunkest he has ever been. He can’t even string a sentence together in his head, let alone out loud. Sara laughs at him, and he laughs at himself. He chooses a bottle from the stash completely at random – he thinks it’s a KGB, but at this point he really can’t tell. He spins around and goes in search of Viktor – maybe they can find a quiet room somewhere, and…

His train of thought is interrupted by Viktor himself, ricocheting off the wall in the hallway. Mila is with him. She’s holding his arm and laughing.

“I want to find Yuuri,” Viktor says to her, “I want to make him _jealous_!’ he says it like it’s a revelation, a brilliant idea. Yuuri pauses, trying to make sense of the situation. Viktor turns his head a little, and Yuuri could swear that Viktor sees him, but he doesn’t acknowledge him, just turns back to Mila and braces himself against the wall.

“Why?” Mila asks.

“Because he’s _hot_ when he’s jealous!” Viktor exclaims.

“How are you going to make him jealous?” Mila asks.

“Umm,” Viktor pauses, squints across at her, “like this I guess?”

He kisses her.

It is just a light brush of his lips against hers, but it is still a kiss, and Yuuri feels like the world has fallen out from underneath his feet.

Yuuri spins away. It feels like the room keeps turning even after he has hit his shoulder against the wall. Everything is spinning out of his control. He stumbles from the room, fingers trailing across the wall.

“Yuuri!” Viktor calls after him.

“Fuck off,” Yuuri mumbles. He needs air, he needs – he doesn’t know what he needs. To wind back the clock, to erase the last five minutes from his mind. He finds the front door and pushes it open. He leaps down the stairs and stops on the drive, hands on his knees, gasping for breath. He doesn’t know where his drink has gone.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Viktor is still following him. He nearly trips falling down the stairs.

“No,” Yuuri says, or thinks he says, or doesn’t say, because Viktor is right there in front of him. He smells of wine and vanilla and he touches Yuuri before he can jerk away.

“I’m sorry,” Viktor doesn’t say it like he means it, “Yuuri, this is what I always do. I always kiss people. It doesn’t _mean_ anything.”

“So it doesn’t mean anything when you kiss me, then?” Yuuri shakes himself free of Viktor’s grip on his shoulders. His heart hurts even thinking about it. He can’t look at Viktor, probably couldn’t see straight even if he tried.

“ _No,_ Yuuri. You’re the only one who means anything,” Viktor sounds confused. He comes closer again and Yuuri backs up fast. He hits the door of the car hard. It messes up his equilibrium and suddenly he’s on the ground looking up at the stairs. There is muffled exclamation from somewhere near him. Turning his head feels like spinning through the universe, as Yuuri looks to the right and sees Viktor on his knees.

“I fell,” Viktor says wonderingly. He looks up and sees Yuuri, goes up onto his knees, wobblingly stands. He holds his hands out to Yuuri to help him up, but Yuuri smacks him away. He can do this. He can absolutely stand up on his own. He snaps at Viktor when the other boy tries to help him again, and eventually claws his way to his feet by using the wing mirror as leverage.

“Please,” Viktor says, “I swear it didn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t care,” Yuuri says, “ _I’m_ the only person you’re allowed to kiss.”

He finds, to his slight confusion, that he is crying. He had thought, for a moment, that all of his fears had come true. And have they not? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything anymore, including which way is up. Time seems to phase in and out, coming back into focus in fits and bursts.

“What if you don’t like me?” Yuuri finds himself saying, “I thought it meant you didn’t like me. I’ve been afraid of that this whole time.”

“Yuuri, no!” Viktor says. He’s slumped against the car for support, one hand in his hair and the other pressed against his mouth as he shakes his head hard.

“No, I was only trying to get you to, like, fuck me or something,” he says, “I promise, Yuuri, I love –”

And then time jumps again.

“You still kissed her,” is the next thing that Yuuri is aware of saying, “you still…” everything is fading around the edges. Where is he again?

“Go away,” he shoves at Viktor, who has stepped close to him again. He ignores the heartbroken look on Viktor’s face as he stumbles back, “I don’t want to talk to you right now!”

Yuuri wants to hurt Viktor the way he has been hurt. Vindictively, he wants Viktor to feel it.

“I want to go home,” Yuuri says. He takes one step back down the driveway, then another, “I’m going home!”

“Y-You can’t,” Viktor gasps, “Yuuri, it’s like, the middle of the night!”

“I’m going home!” Yuuri repeats, and he turns and takes one step, two, and then he’s running. The world is dizzy around him, but he runs where his feet take him.

“Yuuri!” Viktor yells from behind him, “fuck, Yuuri! Come back!”

But he doesn’t. He keeps running.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri doesn’t want to open his eyes. There’s light in the room, and it hurts his head badly enough as it is. If he opens his eyes, he knows it’s just going to get worse. He also has to pee though, so he takes a deep breath and opens his eyes a crack.

Instead of his bedroom, though, he sees the outlines of a vaguely familiar living room. Where is he?

“Hey,” someone says from across the room. Yuuri blinks a couple of times, until the person puts his glasses on his face.

“Leo?” Yuuri asks. His voice is croaky, and his mouth tastes disgusting, “why am I here?”

“That’s a long story,” Leo looks unusually sombre as he sits down on the coffee table and folds his arms, “how are you feeling?”

“Awful,” Yuuri moans. He turns and presses his face into the pillow.

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Leo says, “here.”

Yuuri turns his head again, and takes the glass of water Leo offers him. He sits up slowly, sipping on the water. It does absolutely nothing to help his nausea however. Leo manages to get him into the bathroom, and then leaves him there for what seems like hours to Yuuri. He feels absolutely repulsive.

“I’m never drinking again,” he tells Leo, when his friend comes in with another glass of water and a change of clothes for Yuuri to borrow.

“I wouldn’t,” Leo says, still unusually grim, “have a shower, and then we’ll talk.”

Yuuri feels better after the shower – or, if not _better_ per se, at least slightly more human. He rinses his mouth out with water and mouthwash, and takes two of the Panadol Leo has left him.

He still doesn’t quite understand why he’s in Leo’s house…there’s something in his memory that’s bothering him, but he can’t quite figure it out. Did he do something last night…?

He wanders out to the kitchen, where Leo is sitting with his brother. When he sees Yuuri, Izzy grins at him.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. Yuuri blinks.

“Um…not great?”

“Yeah, you were a mess last night,” Izzy laughs. Yuuri looks between him and Leo, totally confused.

“We picked you up at half past four,” Leo supplies helpfully.

“…why?”

“Oh Jesus,” Izzy shakes his head, “you don’t remember? Yikes.” He gets up from the table and slaps Leo on the back. He thinks better before he does the same to Yuuri, chortling instead as he leaves.

“Do you _really_ not remember?” Leo asks Yuuri.

“It’s coming back to me,” Yuuri admits. He definitely remembers going to the party at Emil’s place…he remembers drinking most of a bottle of wine…he remembers Viktor kissing Mila…oh.

Leo is watching Yuuri’s face, and sees the moment he starts to put things together. He gets up and guides his friend to the kitchen table, then puts his phone into his hand.

“Call your boyfriend,” he says, “let him know you’re alive.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Yuuri asks, “I don’t want to talk to Viktor right now actually.”

“What did he do?” Leo asks, sitting down again opposite him.

“He kissed Mila,” Yuuri says darkly. Leo grimaces.

“That’s not good,” he says, “why?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri says, “I think – he wanted to make me jealous? Maybe? I can’t remember!” He folds an arm across his stomach and studies the grain of the table. Every time he thinks about last night he feels a hot sick rush of – jealousy? Shame? Something isn’t adding up, but Yuuri isn’t quite sure what it is that he doesn’t remember.

“Why am I here?” he asks Leo, “I definitely shouldn’t be here.”

“Like I said, Izzy and I picked you up at half past four,” Leo says.

“Did I call you?”  
“No, Phichit did,” Leo grimaces.

“Why did Phichit call you?”

“Well,” Leo begins, “Viktor called _him_ at three am, crying because _apparently_ you two had a fight and you literally _ran_ away.”

“I…oh,” Yuuri blinks. He remembers fighting with Viktor outside, he remembers wanting to go home, he remembers…oh. Oh no.

It comes back to him in flashes – Viktor trying to explain, Yuuri lashing out, and then running, just running through the dark.

“Yeah,” Leo says grimly, “it was pretty bad. You actually made it most of the way home though, which is a miracle – we found you on the corner of Thomas Road, puking your guts out into someone’s garden.”

“Oh God,” Yuuri buries his face in his hands.

“Yeeaah,” Leo drawls, but then he touches Yuuri on the shoulder, “it’s okay,” he says, “I forgive you, and Izzy doesn’t care. You need to call Viktor though. Like – really.”

“I can’t,” Yuuri shakes his head. The motion hurts, and he stops immediately, “how can I face him?”

“He’s _your_ boyfriend,” Leo points out.

“But I’m mad at him,” Yuuri says petulantly. Leo laughs, and then looks guilty. His phone buzzes and he checks it quickly.

“Time for you to go home,” he says, “you still look like death.”

“I still _feel_ like death,” Yuuri grumbles, as he allows Leo to herd him into Izzy’s car. Leo gets in the backseat with him.

“Please throw up out the window,” Izzy says cheerfully, as he backs out of the de la Iglesias’s driveway.

“I’m not _that_ bad,” Yuuri says faintly. Leo reaches forward, removes his brother’s sunglasses from the top of his head, and sticks them over Yuuri’s eyes.

“Just in case,” he says with a grin.

 

As soon as they get back to his house, Yuuri understands why Leo suddenly decided it was time for him to leave. He knows his parents are at work, but Viktor’s car is on the curb outside his house.

“No,” he says, and turns to Leo.

“Don’t even think about it,” Leo says. He removes his brother’s sunglasses from Yuuri, and then leans across him to open the door. Yuuri hesitates for a long moment, and then steps out.

“Hey Yuuri,” Leo says, before Yuuri can shut the door, “it’ll be okay!”

“Thanks, Leo,” Yuuri says, “and Izzy, thanks too.”

“No worries, kiddo,” Izzy says. Yuuri shuts the door, and Izzy drives off. Taking a deep breath, Yuuri turns around.

To his surprise, Viktor is not alone in sitting on his doorstep. Phichit is there too. Slowly, Yuuri plods across the lawn towards them. As soon as he is close enough, both stand. Yuuri isn’t quite prepared for what happens next.

Viktor strides towards him, takes him by the shoulders, and shakes him.

“What the fuck, Yuuri!” he says, “I was so worried…”

Everything goes a little fuzzy. At the violent motion, a wave of nausea hits Yuuri and he shoves Viktor away in order to throw up into the garden.

When the earth feels a little more stable again, Yuuri turns around with his hand still pressed to his mouth. Viktor has his back to him, and is staring out across the street with both hands over his face. His shoulders are shaking. Part of Yuuri feels totally terrible about it, but part of him is still kind of mad. He glances at Phichit, expecting a word of sympathy. What he doesn’t expect is for Phichit to tear him to shreds.

“What the hell, Yuuri!” he explodes. Yuuri blinks.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Phichit continues, “I got a call at three in the morning saying you’d run away? Yuuri, what the hell? Viktor called me _in tears,_ and Chris and Mila and Otabek went out looking for you, you wouldn’t answer your phone, and I had to get Leo to come after you, and all of Viktor’s friends were totally losing their shit worrying about you!”

“But Viktor,” Yuuri says weakly.

“Yeah, well,” Phichit glances across at Viktor, who still hasn’t turned around, “that’s for you two to deal with. But you can’t just go – “

“Why are _you_ telling _me_ off?” Yuuri asks. He feels very attacked right now, and his head hurts, and he wants to go to bed and forget any of this ever happened.

“Yuuri, I’m your best friend. It’s, like, my job to worry when you do stupid shit,” Phichit rolls his eyes, but then his angry look softens and he sighs.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, “maybe it’s not any of my business. But you really worried us, Yuuri.”

“I know,” Yuuri looks down at his feet in shame. He hadn’t realised, hadn’t even thought that other people might have been involved. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, alright,” Phichit shrugs. He gives Yuuri a quick hug, and then goes over to Viktor, and says something to him that Yuuri doesn’t hear. Viktor nods and turns around.

“I’m sorry,” he says, which is not what Yuuri expects. He blinks. Viktor shuffles his feet.

“It was my fault,” he continues, “I fucked up, I know I did. I’m just, you know. I like to flirt with everyone, and I like to kiss everyone too. It was selfish of me to think that I could just keep doing that. I just – drunk me thought that if I did that, it would make you jealous, and I like it when you get jealous, you know that, but I went too far. It was stupid and, and awful, and I’m sorry.”

Yuuri looks at Viktor’s face as he says this, looks at the angles of his face and his messy silver hair, and feels this apology like a punch in the gut.

“I’m gonna go,” Phichit says, and does just that. Yuuri and Viktor are left standing on the lawn, facing each other. Yuuri feels sick with shame, awkward and confused.

“I want,” he says, “I want to forgive you. Viktor, I don’t – you mean a lot to me,” he says. His voice wobbles. Viktor nods.

“I know,” he says, “I shouldn’t’ve taken that for granted, Yuuri. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s just,” Yuuri pauses, “Viktor, you _know_ I’m not confident. You made me doubt your feelings for me, and now I’m not sure.”

“Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor reaches for him, and then hesitates. After a long moment, Yuuri nods. Viktor touches his shoulders lightly, strokes his neck, cups his jaw in trembling hands.

“Maybe I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he says, “but let me earn it, okay?”

“Okay,” Yuuri says. He’s so tired. He just wants to go back to sleep. He reaches up and presses his hands against Viktor’s, digging his fingers underneath Viktor’s grip so that he is holding his boyfriend’s hands. His head hurts too much to think right now.

“I’m going to go to bed,” he says, “so you should go.”

“Okay,” Viktor makes to drop Yuuri’s hands immediately, but Yuuri keeps hold of them.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promises, which is all he can manage right now. Viktor nods, and Yuuri at last lets go.

 

The next week is difficult. He does not go to school on Monday – he says he is sick, and his mother believes him. He still looks and feels awful, so really it’s not such a lie. Viktor texts him, asking if he’s okay. They talk on the phone, too, but it seems a little awkward. It is largely small talk, and even Viktor’s jokes about Yuuri still being hungover fall a little flat.

He stays away from school on Tuesday too, but on Wednesday he knows he can’t avoid it any longer. When he slopes into form class on Wednesday morning, it is to the slightly disapproving gazes of his friends.

“Did you seriously skip school to avoid Viktor?” Leo asks him. Yuuri shrugs.

“Not just him,” he admits, “but everyone else too.”

“Aw, Yuuri,” Guang-Hong reaches across and pats him on the hand, “it’ll be fine. Things will work out.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri sighs, “I know it will be okay, it’s just…not good right now.”

“What did he even do?” Leo asks, “Viktor, I mean.”

“Oh,” Yuuri looks down at his hands, knotted together on the table, “I don’t really know. We talked about it a bit, but,” he shrugs, “he was trying to make me jealous. I think he knows I’m a little jealous of Mila in particular, so he played on that.”

“Why would he do that?” Guang-Hong asks. Leo and Phichit seem less confused – they exchange glances. Yuuri smiles weakly.

“I tend to get…quite possessive when I’m jealous,” he says, “and Viktor likes it. But he took it too far, and then … I don’t know. He acted like it wasn’t a big deal, and I just. Lost my shit I guess.”

“That’s understandable,” Guang-Hong says. Phichit snorts.

“Oh yeah,” he says, “although I hope you know we’re never going to let this die, Yuuri. We’re forever going to kink shame you as the guy who tried to run home whilst drunk.”

“That’s not really a kink, though,” Yuuri frowns.

“Everything is a kink if you try hard enough,” Phichit winks, and Yuuri knows he is forgiven. If his friends are willing to make a joke of it, then for them, he is absolved.

“Hey, I’m sorry, though,” he says to Leo and Phichit, “I know I worried you guys too.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Leo says.

“Yeah,” Phichit nods, “we’re over it. It’s cool.”

 

Viktor’s friends are not over it. As soon as Yuuri appears, shamefaced, Chris starts telling him off. To Yuuri’s surprise, it is Viktor who tells him to knock it off.

“Seriously, Chris,” Viktor says, “just leave it, okay? Can all of you _please_ butt out of our business?”

He says it perfectly politely, but there is an edge in his tone.

“He kind of made it our business,” Otabek points out, “when he ran off and left you crying in the middle of the road.”

Yuuri winces at this, and Otabek notices. He grimaces slightly.

“Yeah, whatever,” he concedes, and waves a hand. Chris is slightly less inclined to drop the subject.

“We nearly called the police, Yuuri,” he says disapprovingly. Yuuri isn’t quite quick enough to keep the shock off his face, and Chris nods.

“Yeah,” he says, “how you feel now? That’s how we felt, but a thousand times worse.”

“Seriously,” Viktor says, “lay off him, alright? It was my fault, anyway.”

“What _did_ happen?” Mickey glances between Viktor and Yuuri, “Viktor didn’t exactly elaborate when Mila dragged him inside…”

Viktor prevents Yuuri from answering by taking him by the arm and dragging him back to sit back with Phichit, Leo and Guang-Hong.

“Did you really –?” Yuuri begins as they walk.

“Cry in the road?” Viktor finishes. He snorts. “Yeah. And I was too ashamed to tell them why. That’s why they’re so angry at you, sorry.”

“Jesus,” Yuuri hangs his head, “Viktor, I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t have run off, I –”

“No,” Viktor agrees lightly, “you shouldn’t’ve. But honestly –” he pauses, and then shakes his head, “this isn’t a conversation for school. Can I come over to yours this afternoon?”

“I have dance,” Yuuri says apologetically, “but maybe I could come to yours after?”

It is an olive branch from both of them. Viktor nods, and bites his lip.

“Yeah,” he says, “that would be good. I mean,” he laughs awkwardly, “this conversation is probably gonna painful as hell, but…”

“It needs to happen,” Yuuri agrees.

 

Yuuri gets Mari to drop him off at Viktor’s after his dance class. Viktor comes and meets him in the driveway, and they go out into the garden for privacy. For a while they just sit there, and then at last Viktor starts talking.

“Yuuri, you can’t possibly hate me as much as I hate myself right now,” he says. Yuuri looks up at him, startled.

“I’m dumb sometimes, you know that,” Viktor continues. He is sitting all folded up in his chair, bundled up in a massive woollen grey sweater. He looks small, and sad.

“I just,” Viktor shakes his head, “I didn’t _think_. I’m so sorry. If you break up with me, I know it’s my fault.”

“Wait – break up with you?” Yuuri asks. Viktor blinks.

“Aren’t – aren’t you going to?” he asks in surprise.

“No,” Yuuri says, completely honestly, “I’m still kind of mad at you, but I don’t want to not have you.”

“Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor presses his face into his knee for a moment, “you’re way better than I deserve.”

Something about Viktor’s behaviour seems a little off – he isn’t usually nearly this self-deprecating. Yuuri looks at Viktor closely, and wonders if something is wrong, something other than the fracture in their relationship. But now is not quite the time to ask – they have to fix their fight first.

“No,” he says, “I still think you’re way too good for me. But, Vitya, you _knew_ I was jealous of Mila. Why did you kiss her?”

“I don’t know,” Viktor admits, “It’s like I said – I always kiss people, it’s just what I do. It’s not an excuse,” he says hastily, “it’s just…drunk me’s reasoning, I guess. I didn’t think you’d be so hurt, because I didn’t think, because I never think.”

“No,” Yuuri agrees. Viktor looks absolutely devastated. Yuuri sighs.

“Vitya,” he says, “I _know_ that you have feelings for me. I _know_ that. I know that you want to be with me. But it’s like I said, y’know, back before opening night. My anxiety and, and my jealousy too – it isn’t rational. It just _is_. It wasn’t fair of you to try and manipulate that.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry,” Viktor says. Yuuri nods.

“I know that too,” he says, “so am I.”

Viktor opens his mouth to say something else, and then pauses. Yuuri waits expectantly.

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” Viktor says slowly, “because I don’t really know how to feel about it.”

“Mmn?” Yuuri prompts, when Viktor doesn’t elaborate straight away. Viktor digs in his pocket for his phone and unlocks it, loading up a message to show Yuuri. It is in Cyrillic, and Yuuri stares at it blankly.

“I don’t –” he says, and Viktor starts.

“Oh, sorry,” he says, “I forgot – ah, it’s a message from my grandmother, right?”

“Right,” Yuuri says warily.

“It says ‘hello Viten’ka, your grandfather and I have a surprise for you. We want you and Yurochka to come to Russia in the summer for some weeks as a present, let me know, love grandmother.’” Viktor translates. He then presses his phone to his mouth and looks at Yuuri anxiously.

“But that’s great,” Yuuri says, “you get to go back to Russia and visit your family!”

“I – yeah,” Viktor says.

“Is it not a good thing?” Yuuri asks cautiously. Viktor shrugs one shoulder.

“I don’t know?” he says, and bites his lip. “I just – Yuuri, I haven’t told my grandparents about you because I don’t know how they’ll react, and I don’t want to lie to them, and that makes me feel awful.”

“You don’t have to tell them,” Yuuri says, nonplussed.

“I don’t want to lie by omission either,” Viktor insists. He looks even more uncomfortable now, and bites his lip so hard Yuuri is slightly concerned that he’ll draw blood.

“I’ve been getting emails,” he says slowly, “about – me and you.”

“Wait, what?” Yuuri gets a sinking feeling in his stomach, something sick and hot. Viktor can’t meet his eye – instead he stares at Yuuri’s carpet with unfocused eyes.

“I don’t know who they’re from,” he says, “and I don’t really care what they say about _me_. I’m not offended when people call me girly or whatever, because it’s true and I don’t care. I mean,” he laughs without humour, “they’re usually a bit stronger worded than that, but it’s whatever.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri is horrified. Viktor just shakes his head, still looking at the ground.

“I guess it’s just kind of everything at once, you know?” he says, “I get shit about being with you from random assholes on the internet and that’s bad enough, but it’s not going to kill me. See, Yuuri,” he looks up at last. His eyes are unguarded and fierce as he stares at Yuuri, reaches for his shoulders but stops just short of touching him. Yuuri moves forward into his touch, lifts his arms so that he’s holding Viktor’s elbows.

“I’m _not_ ashamed of being with you, or of wanting to be with you,” Viktor continues, “you know that, right?”

Although things between them have been tense for the last few days, Yuuri nods. He may doubt it sometimes, may get mad at Viktor or fall into a little slump of self-loathing, but he does know that Viktor wants to be with him, knows that Viktor is as shameless with his feelings as he is with his affections.

“Of course,” Yuuri says. He presses his palms against Viktor’s cheeks, making sure that he is all that Viktor can see, “Viktor, I will be with you for as long as you want me. Whatever happens, I’ll be here.” The ‘I’ll fight for you’ goes unspoken only because it is unnecessary – Viktor knows. He closes his eyes and leans into Yuuri’s touch.

“I’m unapologetic about you,” Viktor says, “but the problem with Russia is that I _can’t_ be unapologetic there for my own safety. And that makes me mad. And sad.”

Yuuri hugs Viktor, smooshes his nose into Viktor’s neck. Viktor hugs him back tightly.

“Anyway,” Viktor mumbles into Yuuri’s shoulder, “that’s why I’ve been so edgy lately. I think that’s why I – you know. Did those stupid things. I’ve just been – afraid, I guess.”

“You should have told me,” Yuuri says.

“Yeah,” Viktor sighs, “I’ve just been one big fuck up lately with regards to you. Please forgive me.”

“Already forgiven,” Yuuri says, “idiot.”

Viktor huffs a little laugh. Yuuri looks up at him, presses his hands to Viktor’s cheeks again, kisses him hard. Viktor responds immediately, both palms splayed against Yuuri’s chest. His touch still sends little shocks of electricity all through Yuuri’s body, still makes him feel fizzy like lemonade. They have not kissed like this in weeks, since Yuuri left for the beach, since their argument. He kisses desperately, trying to relearn Viktor in the space between heartbeats.

“It’s okay,” Viktor says, as he kisses Yuuri’s neck and leaves him weak at the knees, “it’s okay, we’re okay.”

“We’re okay,” Yuuri agrees, and turns Viktor’s chin back towards him so that he kiss his lips again and again.

The tiny break in Yuuri’s heart heals sometime in the next hour, as he and Viktor work to fix the broken between them.

“I swear,” Viktor says, kissing Yuuri’s cheeks and hairline and the tip of his nose, “you are absolutely the only one for me.”

“I know,” Yuuri says, because he does. His anxiety has been quieted again and he feels entirely comfortable lolling in Viktor’s arms, stroking his hair and bundling it up in one hand so that he has better access to leave a tiny trail of bruises down the side of Viktor’s throat.

He still finds Viktor intoxicating, but he is no longer filled with disbelief every time he sees him, kisses him, touches him. It is fiercer now, a possessiveness that dictates no control but which would motivate Yuuri to the ends of the earth to keep Viktor safe, to keep him _here_ , to keep him Yuuri’s.

“I’m the only one,” he says later, tugging at Viktor’s hair so that Viktor looks up at him. His cheeks and lips are flushed as he nods.

“I’m the only one,” Yuuri repeats, “and no one else can have you.”

“I’m yours,” Viktor agrees as he tugs Yuuri back for another bruising kiss, “and everyone knows it.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, guess who spilled the better part of a litre of water all over her laptop?? me. the answer is me. im a dumbass.   
> said laptop is slowly coming back to like, but the keys keep jamming and i go back to uni in a week - YIKES!!!!!!!  
> anyway have an update since god knows when this trash baby of computer will be fully functional again lmao


	4. exeunt

Yuuri thinks a lot about what Viktor has told him over the next several days. He tries not to be obvious about it, but he watches over Viktor with a wary eye, checking constantly to make sure he is okay. The irony does not escape him – this must be what Viktor is like all the time with him, constantly monitoring him to make sure he feels safe and comfortable.

On the _whole_ , Yuuri doesn’t notice anything particularly different about Viktor. Finally getting around to telling Yuuri and resolving their fight has alleviated most of the stress of the situation, and he is able to brush it off with his usual unflappability. But it still makes itself in the subtlest of ways. Viktor is slightly clingier that usual and there is a slightly harder edge to his affections which indicates his insecurity.

Alongside this, Yuuri frequently finds himself prodding at his feelings, trying to establish if Viktor’s actions have in any way permanently changed how Yuuri feels about him. Although at the time he had assured Viktor that all was well - and it _is_ well - he has to keep checking. Just to make sure.

It would probably be easier, Yuuri thinks ruefully, if people didn’t continue to bring it up. The next time he sits with Viktor’s group at lunch, the conversation comes around again.

Viktor’s friends, much like Phichit, Leo and Guang-Hong, have made a joke about it. Mickey and Emil are having a heated debate about the previous night’s rugby match.

“Did you see that try from the second half?” Mickey waves his arm around for emphasis.

“Which one?” Emil asks blankly, “specifically?”

“Oh, come on,” Mikey sighs, exasperated, “you _know_ the one.”

When Emil insists that he _doesn’t_ know which specific try, Mickey gets up from his seat on the steps.

“I’m going to run away,” he says dramatically to Emil, “that’s how much you’ve upset me. You’re a ake rugby fan!”

Everyone laughs, with a few sideways glances at Viktor and Yuuri to gauge their reaction. To Yuuri’s surprise, Viktor sighs.

“About that,” he says. Everyone turns to look at him.

“Sorry,” Mickey says immediately, “I won’t joke about if it bothers you.”

“Oh, you’d have to check with Yuuri,” Viktor shrugs, “it’s just - no, I wanted to say something else. About that night.” He looks immensely uncomfortable. Yuuri looks over at him, examining him in profile. He’s gone blotchy pink and squirmy with embarrassment.

“You guys shouldn’t be on Yuuri’s dick about that,” he says. Yuuri rears back a little in surprise. He doesn’t particularly want to talk about the fight, or that night, any longer – he doesn’t mind a joke here and there, but any serious discussion makes feel a bit … well. It makes him feel a bit.

“Viktor, what -” he begins, trying to head Viktor off.

“Just, I wouldn’t want you to treat Yuuri unfairly about it,” Viktor sighs, neatly cutting Yuuri off with an apologetic side-eye “it was kind of...no, it _was_ my fault that that whole thing happened, you know?”

“No, we thought Yuuri just went and gapped it into the night for no reason,” Georgi says dryly. Yuuri exchanges a loaded glance with Viktor, who still looks incredibly awkward. Yuuri wishes that he wouldn’t. He moves down a step so that he is sitting directly next to Viktor, shoulder to shoulder.

“Um, anyway,” Viktor says, “you guys should know that I was actually being an asshole, and we had a fight, and that’s why Yuuri ran away. So you shouldn’t blame him, really.”

“Okay,” Georgi shrugs.

“What did you do?” Emil asks. Mickey kicks him.

“I c–” Viktor starts, and then stops like his voice has been cut off. Yuuri knows what Viktor had been about to say. He doesn’t want to hear it.

Squeezing Viktor’s arm reassuringly, he says: “That’s kind of none of your business.”

Emil looks over at him, eyes wide with surprise. People always _do_ get surprised when Yuuri says something firm or resolute.

“Fine,” Chris agrees quickly, speaking before Emil can open his mouth again. He then breaks the moment by raising a leg and kicking Mickey behind the knees so he goes sprawling onto the grass with a yelp. Everything resumes as normal, conversation returns as if it had never been interrupted, and a little bit of tension that Yuuri did not know he was still holding in his shoulders slips away.

He rests his head against Viktor’s shoulder and looks up into the sky. Patchily blue and grey, it is cold and close. Beside him, Viktor is warm. Without even noticing, he snuggles a little closer into Viktor’s uniform sweater. Viktor wraps an arm around him and presses a light little kiss to his temple.

He is totally relaxed here, in the environment in which he is such a star. Yuuri wonders uneasily if the people who have been harassing him may be people from their school. He can’t help from glancing around quickly although he doesn’t know what he’s looking for.

“What’s up?” Viktor mumbles into his hair. Yuuri turns to look at him. Angular face, pale skin, silvery eyelashes framing swimming-pool blue eyes. Faint, smudgy bruises on his neck from Yuuri’s mouth, half hidden by his collar. Yuuri reaches up and prods lightly at one of the bruises. Viktor winces a little, but there is a little smile curling around his mouth - a secret smile, dark and decadent and for Yuuri’s eyes only.

Yuuri doesn’t want to ask him how he feels. Wouldn’t know how to broach that subject on his own, even if he did want to. So he takes Viktor’s hand and gets sucked into a conversation with Otabek, and for now he pushes everything else aside.

All the same, in the back of his mind, he keeps thinking of ways to try and make Viktor feel more secure. He doesn’t want to become some sort of weird co-dependent boyfriend, he just wants to make sure that Viktor feels safe. Because Yuuri feels safe when he’s with Viktor. His emotional probing has yielded nothing - he still likes Viktor, still believes that Viktor likes him, knows that Viktor’s mistake was just an error of judgement and has faith that he will not do it again. He just wants to make sure that Viktor feels safe, too.

This is what he is musing on when the leaflet for the SPCA lands in his letterbox. It’s not usually something he’d even bother with – he doesn’t have a job, so he can’t exactly give his money to needy causes. But this leaflet isn’t asking for money, it’s asking for volunteers for a drive day. Yuuri stares at it for several minutes trying to make up his mind.

It would certainly be an unconventional date idea, but presenting Viktor with both his presence _and_ baby animals seems like too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Yuuri only gives Viktor minimal warning – he doesn’t tell Viktor exactly what they are doing, only tells him to wear old clothes. Viktor pesters him constantly trying to find out what Yuuri has planned, but Yuuri won’t spill. Viktor tosses out ideas from paintball to foam parties, but none of his guesses are even close.

Yuuri’s mother drives them to the SPCA on Saturday morning. Viktor, unused to sitting in the backseat of the car, keeps craning around to peer through the front windshield. Yuuri notices that every time his mother turns a corner or changes lanes, Viktor’s gaze flicks to the wing mirrors like they would if he were the one driving. It’s an adorable little habit, and Yuuri can’t resist turning around to smile at his boyfriend. Viktor beams back, not knowing precisely why Yuuri is smiling at him, but happy all the same.

When they turn down the industrial street leading to the animal shelter, Viktor makes an ‘ooh’ sound of recognition from the backseat.

“Huh?” Yuuri turns around, “do you know where we are?”

“I think so?” Viktor says. He leans forward again and squints towards the end of the street. When the gates slide open to admit them, he smacks Yuuri excitedly on the arm.

“Yuuri! Are we volunteering?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, “I just though, you know. It would be fun.”

“I never even thought of this,” Viktor says, glancing around the carpark appreciatively. Yuuri can’t help but glow a little with pride. It’s not easy to surprise Viktor. He reaches for Viktor, who lets himself be tugged inside the building.

They are assigned to help process several litters of puppies. The look on Viktor’s face when the man in administration tells them this is so adorable, Yuuri has to really restrain himself from grabbing him around the middle and kissing him then and there. Since that would be inappropriate, he settles for squeezing Viktor’s hand instead.

“Ooh,” Viktor says, when they are taken to the puppies they will be cataloguing. He pauses in the doorway and presses his hands over his heart, “they’re so cute!”

“They’re so small,” Yuuri kneels next to one of the baskets. These puppies were brought in without mothers, and another volunteer is working her way steadily through, feeding them all with a rag dipped in milk. She helps Viktor and Yuuri to do the same. Every puppy that they pick up, they write down distinguishing features, and are also allowed to name them.

Yuuri carefully cradles the tiny dogs in his hands as he feeds them. He has always been small and agile, but never has he felt clumsier.

He and Viktor glance at each other every few seconds. Viktor lifts one of the puppies and holds it underneath his chin. His eyes are wide.

“Wow,” he says quietly, “Yuuri, this is probably the best day of my life!”

“I doubt it’s the _best_ day of your life,” Yuuri laughs as he carefully tucks the baby lab he is holding back into its basket.

“Yuuri, I’m spending the day with puppies and you,” Viktor says, “I can guarantee you, this is absolutely the best day of my life.” There is no laughter in his voice, nothing to indicate that he is joking. Yuuri glances up. Viktor is sitting back on his heels, staring over at him. His head is tilted slightly to the side as he looks unwaveringly at Yuuri.

“Oh,” Yuuri glances down, and then shyly back up at Viktor, “I’m glad you think that, Viktor.”

Although the rest of the tasks they do that day – scrubbing out cages, mopping floors, and rounding up recalcitrant rabbits – aren’t quite as fun as feeding and cataloguing new-born puppies, it is still a good day. Yuuri has never really done any volunteering work and neither has Viktor, and they are allowed to spend the whole day working together. They don’t necessarily talk a lot, but being in each other’s company is more than enough.

On the way home, Yuuri sits in the backseat instead of the front, so that Viktor can rest his head on his shoulder and fall into a swift doze. Yuuri keeps his arm tucked around Viktor’s waist as his mind turns to drama.

On Friday, his class had started a new unit – they are devising performances based on social issues. He has had an idea brewing in the back of his mind all day, but only now is it starting to flower. He’s in a group with his friends, but at the same time he’s wary of suggesting his idea to them.

In a way, it feels like something personal. Phichit, Leo and Guang-Hong will understand his idea, and he knows they’ll do a good job of performing it, but all the same...

Yuuri glances down at Viktor. He’s drooling a little onto Yuuri’s shoulder. Even like this, exhausted and messy, Viktor is still the most beautiful thing Yuuri has ever seen. Yuuri does not ever want to let him go. When Viktor goes away to drama school…Yuri closes his eyes for a second. His brain wants to shy away from making any sort of concrete plans, but…

 

In the end, it is this which prompts Yuuri to tell his friends about his idea. He wants to protect Viktor, but he cannot express his feelings in any other way except on the stage. He’s not wonderful with words, and only recently has he learned to communicate through touch. Physicality has always been his expression – dancing… and acting.

In class on Monday, they sit down on the floor to talk about their ideas. Phichit and Guang-Hong have a few vague concepts in mind, Leo a slightly better formed idea, but Yuuri is the only one who has a real, concrete plan.

“I kind of think,” Yuuri pauses. On the brink of confession, Yuuri suddenly doubts himself. His is such a personal thing, and everyone present knows it. But what if it’s _too_ personal, what if the line between acting and reality gets too blurred…?  
“What do you think, Yuuri?” Phichit prompts him. His friend is looking at him like he knows what he’s going to say.

“Well,” Yuuri shrugs, takes a breath, “I think we should do homophobia.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Leo says immediately. He flicks a glance to Guang-Hong, so quick that Yuuri almost thinks he has imagined it.

“Yeah,” Phichit says, “but – how? How are we going to portray that?”

“I haven’t got that far,” Yuuri admits. Guang-Hong uncurls his legs from underneath him, looking pensive.

“We could do it kind of like how you and Viktor did R&J,” he says thoughtfully, “a lot more physical.”

Yuuri nods.

“An inversion, too,” he says, “to add an extra layer of meaning for our written work.”

Phichit snorts a little laugh at this, and Leo and Guang-Hong grin.

“We could use the screen,” he continues, “backlight it. That’s another element.”

“Oh shit, yeah,” Leo nods, “that’s two actually, if we use coloured lighting too.”

“Mmn, might be too complicated,” Yuuri says, “from a technology level. Not plot wise.”

The rest of the hour passes quickly as the boys discuss their ideas. The conversation continues even after drama, as the boys collect their bags and wander to their usual lunch spot. The idea has rooted itself in Yuuri’s brain, brought into the light now by discussion. They have a lot of good ideas, and Yuuri is itching to start trying some things out. Although he usually prefers working from a script over devising, this is something very close to his heart, and something he is desperate to express on the stage – mainly because he doesn’t really know how to express it any other way.

This is maybe why Yuuri doesn’t tell Viktor about what they are planning for their issues-based performance. He’s certainly not deliberately keeping it from Viktor – he knows his boyfriend would love the idea, from a _theatrical_ perspective. But Yuuri’s protective streak is persistently strong. And perhaps, too, it is more selfish than that. Maybe the real reason Yuuri doesn’t bring it up is because he wants to keep this, wants to keep it as his own expression, without Viktor’s influence. Just for now.

 

Over the next few weeks, the performance comes together beautifully, but Yuuri still hasn’t told Viktor what it’s about. At last, the week before they’re going to perform, he brings the subject up at morning tea. Phichit, Leo and Guang-Hong have gone to the canteen, and it is just he and Viktor sitting on the ground by the wall. Viktor is examining his nails and lamenting over all the breaks when Yuuri clears his throat.

“Hey Viktor,” he says, “what do you have after lunch on Monday?”

“Uh,” Viktor digs in his pocket for his timetable and examines it, “oh, I have French. Why?”

“Okay, firstly, I can’t believe you just had to consult your timetable this late in the year –”

“Shut up,” Viktor laughs, “you know I have a memory like a sieve.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri pats Viktor on the head, like he’d pat a sweet puppy, “no, uh, it’s just – do you think you can get out of it?”

“Why?” Viktor peers up at Yuuri with an exaggerated gasp, “Yuuri, are you trying to persuade me to wag? Are you attempting to corrupt me?”

“Well,” Yuuri shrugs one shoulder, “kind of?”

“What reasons could you possibly have for doing that?” Viktor muses. He turns to face Yuuri and reaches over to pick up the bottom of Yuuri’s tie. His gaze doesn’t waver from Yuuri’s face as he slowly undoes the tie.

“Viktor, we’re at school,” Yuuri hisses, “please refrain from trying to seduce me right now.”

“Oh,” Viktor pouts, “but you started it!”

“I didn’t mean for _that_ reason,” Yuuri rolls his eyes. He’s trying to fight down a blush, because Viktor refuses to leave his tie alone. He pulls it all the way apart and tugs it out from underneath Yuuri’s collar, before moving to undo Yuuri’s top button. This causes Yuuri’s blush to spread all the way from his cheeks down his neck, as he seizes Viktor’s wrists and moves them backwards.

“I just wanted to know if you wanted to come watch me perform,” he says quickly, “I mean – I want you to come and see our drama devised. If you can.”

“Huh,” Viktor tips his head to the side, “you never did tell me the theme you guys chose for that.”

“I know,” Yuuri says, “I, um…want it to be a surprise? No,” he amends, “not a surprise, per se. It’s just. Please, do you think you could come? Miss Okukawa could probably get you out of class…”

“Nah she doesn’t love me _that_ much,” Viktor says, “but I’m sure Mr Morgan would let me off. I’m his star pupil,” Viktor flutters his eyelashes.

“Please try,” Yuuri says earnestly. Viktor nods.

“Okay,” he says, “I’ll do my best. I love watching you act, anyway.”

Yuuri gives Viktor a little half smile, and releases his wrists.

“Can I have my tie back now?”

“Oh,” Viktor pouts, “I like seeing you without it,” he winks.

“Yes, well,” Yuuri mutters, “I know you do, but we’re in _public_.”

“Spoilsport,” Viktor says, and hands Yuuri’s tie back to him with a sigh.

 

Yuuri and his friends practise all lunchtime before their performance. Yuuri isn’t quite _anxious_ , but he’s definitely _nervous_. His hands are shaking.

“Would it have been easier if you hadn’t asked Viktor to come?” Phichit asks, as he stares down at Yuuri’s trembling hands.

“No, probably not. I don’t know. Maybe,” Yuuri shrugs, “I just – it’s important. To me. And to him, I think.”

“Yeah,” Phichit agrees. He worries at his thumbnail for a moment, and then grins across at Yuuri.

“I’m nervous too,” he says, “not about Viktor, but just about performing. It’ll be a bit shit if we only get a merit.”

“Phichit!” Yuuri exclaims, but he’s laughing.

At that moment the bell rings, and Guang-Hong yelps. This also helps to lighten the mood – they’re all as nervous as each other, and they can take comfort from this. The other groups in their class are also hoping to perform today, although they may have to wait until tomorrow if they run out of time. Yuuri has arranged with Miss O for their group to go first, because of Viktor. He had no problems arranging to get out of class, and although Miss O didn’t exactly _approve_ , she did promise not to kick him out.

The other drama class watching arrive before Viktor does. It is a class of year elevens, who look suitably excited to be watching the performance of the older class. This class includes Minami, who greets Yuuri enthusiastically as he takes his seat.

Yuuri smiles weakly at him, but he’s feeling nervous again. Of all the days Viktor had to be his usual chronically late self, he sort of wishes it wasn’t today.

Even as he’s thinking this the door opens and Viktor slips into the room. He waves at Miss O, and gives Yuuri a thumbs up with his head titled to the side in a question. Yuuri gives a dramatic exhale, puffing up his cheeks. Viktor laughs as he takes his seat. Yuuri goes to help Phichit tug the screen across the stage as Leo and Guang-Hong position the little square stage lights and make a last check with JJ, who is operating said lights for their performance.

“Okay,” Miss O says, “the camera’s set up and good to go. We’re ready when you are.”

Yuuri reaches his hands out towards his friends. Leo and Guang-Hong squeeze his right arm, Phichit his left.

“We’ve got this,” Leo says, as they head to separate corners of the stage, and JJ turns the overhead lights off.

 

It starts with silence as the light fades in behind the screen. The audience can see only silhouettes, dancing behind the screen. It is nothing complicated, just a waltz, performed to no music. Two spotlights slowly glow to life on either side of the screen, which Yuuri and Phichit step into.

They have memorised poetry for this. Neither of them is usually inclined to read it, but Miss O made the suggestion and it works well. They do alternate verses of a poem about a man loving another man. Yuuri faces into the darkness – he isn’t wearing glasses or contacts, and can see nothing under the bright lights dazzling his eyes. He keeps his mind clear, and focuses on the scene. The spotlights fade, and Phichit and Yuuri step back into the darkness.

This is where the sound starts – Leo scoured news archives for soundbites of anti-LGBT propaganda, and spliced them all together. In the scene, the silhouettes behind the white screen freeze, and then turn slowly to face the front, still holding hands but separating, separating. The lights go off, and on, and off again in a slow strobe.

A series of freeze frames follow. Every time the lights come on again, the scene behind the screen is slightly different. Yuuri and Phichit advance closer to Guang-Hong and Leo, who back away, clinging to each other. They are pulled apart. Leo falls. Yuuri pretends to kick him. The stage goes dark again.

When the lights come up, Yuuri is sitting cross legged in the middle of stage. He is not looking at anything in particular. Leo and Guang-Hong emerge from the curtains stage right, and walk across the stage holding hands. Yuuri’s gaze follows them. He looks pensive. When Guang-Hong and Leo have almost reached the far left side of the stage, they freeze. Phichit emerges; he seizes Yuuri by the wrist and pulls him violently upright, tugging him off the stage. Both glance behind themselves as they leave. Phichit looks disgusted. Yuuri looks upset.

When they are gone, Leo and Guang-Hong exchange glances, and then walk off the stage.

The final scene opens with Guang-Hong standing under a spotlight alone. The screen is backlit, as Yuuri dances out the scene that Guang-Hong is describing.

“I always knew,” Guang-Hong says. He is playing a character quite unlike himself, bold and outspoken and flamboyant.

“Ever since I was a kid. I was raised to think nothing of it, you know? People are people and all that. My parents didn’t care. My sister thought it was a phase she could exploit for a while – you know, the whole ‘gbf’ thing? But she got over it, when she realised how bad it was. I don’t hold it against her or anything, because I know she understands now. And I mean, it never _really_ bothered me. I’m a pretty confident guy. I don’t care what people think of me”

Then it is Leo – Phichit does the physical movement behind the screen for him.

“I thought I was straight for years,” Leo’s character is more withdrawn, a little apologetic, “doesn’t everyone, though? I guess I just thought that being gay was wrong, that I was broken or something. When I first got a crush on a guy and was old enough to know what it was, I tried too hard to…stop it. To get rid of it. I thought I was going to go to hell. It took years for me to come to terms with it. But I’m okay now. I think.”

Next it is Yuuri’s turn in the spotlight, and Guang-Hong is behind the screen. Yuuri shuffles his feet, glances over his shoulder.

“I don’t think it’s bad,” he confesses, “my family all do. They go on and on, every time – ah. I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m not gay. I’m _not_ gay. So who cares, right? They can do what they want, I don’t care. It’s nothing to do with me, what other people do with their lives. As long as it doesn’t come anywhere near me – ah.” He glances over his shoulder again and sighs. “Who am I kidding?” he says quietly, as the light fades.

Leo dances for Phichit, who stands with his arms folded.

“I think it’s disgusting, personally,” he says. The sneer on his face is horribly realistic. “who do they think they are? Carrying on like that, always dragging their lives and their _issues_ all over the news. It’s completely unnatural, and I can’t believe they have the _audacity_ to demand thing of ordinary folk. Why should we give them special treatment? If it were up to me, they’d all undergo conversion therapy. It’s the kindest way, really.”

The spotlight fades, but the backlight remains. Guang-Hong re-joins Leo, and they go back to waltzing. Yuuri creeps into the edge of the screen, reaching towards them. But Phichit seizes his other arm and pulls him back. The stage slowly goes dark.

 

There is a pause, as the audience wait to see if the lights will come on again. Yuuri clings to Phichit’s arm. He finds that he is shaking.

“I hate having to be that person,” Phichit says in his ear. Yuuri nods, even though Phichit can’t see him.

“I know,” he says, “I know.”

The audience realises that the performance is over, and start clapping. The darkness is cut suddenly by a flash of light as the door opens, and then closes. The audience is illuminated for a brief second, and Yuuri can see that Viktor is no longer there. When the house lights come on so they can reset the stage for the next group, Yuuri grabs Phichit’s arm.

“I have to go,” he says. Phichit glances across at the audience, and then nods.

“It’s okay,” he says, “we’ve got this. Go.”

A few people glance curiously at Yuuri as he walks briskly towards the back of the room. Miss O looks at him too, but Yuuri avoids eye contact with her. She doesn’t stop him leaving to go after Viktor, which is tantamount to her blessing.

Yuuri hesitates in the hallway for a moment, trying to guess where Viktor might have gone. He checks the bathroom first, but it’s empty. The door to the dressing room is locked, and there’s no one in the drama office. Yuuri is totally stumped, until he remembers the accessible bathroom in the foyer. With a belated realisation that it would be seriously embarrassing if it was occupied by someone else, Yuuri knocks on the door.

“It’s me,” he says, and steps back. There is a pause, and then Viktor unlocks the door.

He keeps most of his face hidden behind his elbow, but the red eyes are a dead giveaway. Yuuri opens his mouth to say – what, he doesn’t know. Viktor reaches out and tugs him forward by the shoulders, pulling him backwards into the bathroom and then pushing him hard against the door. Yuuri hugs him tightly, and feels that he is shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri apologises. Never has Viktor appeared so fragile to him – even when he cried before production, even when he’s messy drunk, he’s never been like this.

“Don’t,” Viktor says. He presses three fingers to Yuuri’s lips without removing his head from where it is pressed into Yuuri’s shoulder, “don’t apologise. It was amazing, Yuuri. You were amazing.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t know what to say to make it better. He’s made Viktor cry _again_ , and he still doesn’t know how to fix it, fix him. They’ve been together for three months, and Yuuri still doesn’t know how to deal with Viktor’s emotions when they’re anything less than happiness. But god damn it, he’ll never forgive himself if he doesn’t try.

Ignoring how awkward it makes him feel, he slides his hands down to Viktor’s hips and pushes Viktor back a step. Viktor bites his own lip hard, trying to stop crying. Yuuri carefully lifts his hands to Viktor’s face and wipes away his tears. Viktor gives a shaky smile.

“ _I’m_ sorry,” he says, “I shouldn’t’ve – ha. I’m a mess, huh?”

“You’re always kind of a mess,” Yuuri says, but fondly.

“Mmn, well,” Viktor tries to laugh, “I guess…well.”

“I know,” Yuuri says, “why it – why. Well. That’s kind of why.”

“Please don’t tell me you devised this entire thing just to make me cry,” Viktor says. It’s a pretty feeble attempt at a joke. Yuuri doesn’t smile.

“Not to hurt you – never to hurt you,” he says.

“I know, I know,” Viktor says quickly. He raises his own hands and rests them against Yuuri’s. It is a very intimate moment to be having in a school bathroom.

“I just – it was _because_ of you. I couldn’t articulate how I felt really, when you told me about all that crap,” he says. Viktor smiles wryly.

“I had to try and put it all on the stage,” Yuuri explains, “I had to make something that would express how I felt? I’m not good with words,” he apologises. Viktor nods.

“I know,” he says, “Yuuri, I knew that. That’s kind of,” he waves a hand at his own face, “I knew it was personal. That’s what made it more powerful, you know? Even if I wasn’t – I probably would have cried anyway. You know me,” he tries to smile again, and this time is slightly more successful, “of course I was going to get emotional about something actually relevant to me.” He tips his head to one side, then screws up his eyes as a few errant tears threaten to leak out. He swears under his breath.

“I’m sorry anyway,” Yuuri says. He removes his hands from Viktor’s face and pulls him in for a hug instead. He curls his right hand across the back of Viktor’s neck in a gesture of support.

“Don’t be,” Viktor says again. He squeezes Yuuri tightly, and let’s himself be held.

“Would it be inappropriate to kiss you right now?” Yuuri mumbles into Viktor’s skin. Viktor huffs a surprised little laugh.

“Maybe,” he says, “but only because we’re in a bathroom.”

“I’m pretty sure worse things happen in bathrooms than a little bit of kissing,” Yuuri says.

“Yeah, _exactly_ ,” Viktor says, but he pulls back enough to be able to kiss Yuuri anyway. They are soft kisses, chaste. Yuuri closes his eyes and tries to let Viktor know without words that he is here, that he will always be here.

“We should get back,” Viktor says.

“Mmn,” Yuuri says. He raises an eyebrow.

“Why has so much of our relationship taken place at _school_?” he asks. Viktor laughs.

“I try not to think about that,” he says, “it’s kind of depressing.”

He gently nudges Yuuri to the side and splashes water on his face. Yuuri opens the door a crack to peer down the hallway, just to make sure there are no people walking past who would most certainly find two boys emerging from the bathroom together a bit suspicious. But the hallway is clear, so Yuuri opens the door fully and Viktor flips off the light.

They sneak back into the drama room between performances and sit in the back, next to Yuuri’s friends. Under cover of darkness, they hold hands tightly.

Yuuri’s mind is not on the performances. He strokes the interior of Viktor’s wrist with his fingers, and thinks about the future. He doesn’t want to let Viktor go – cannot, _will_ not let Viktor go. When Viktor goes away next year, Yuuri will still be here – but Yuuri is willing to work for this relationship. Viktor means too much to him for Yuuri to let the relationship fall apart over something so inconsequential as distance.

 

* * *

 

A few weeks later, Yuuri wakes suddenly in the middle of the night. His phone is buzzing. At first, he thinks it is his alarm. Blearily he opens his eyes and squints at the window, but his room is dark. The only light comes from his bedside table, where his phone screen is alight.

He moves automatically, picking it up and peering at the name on the display. It takes his brain a few seconds to catch up with him as he stares at Viktor’s name.

“Hello?” Yuuri has to try twice before his sleep-rusted voice is audible. There is a beat of silence on the other end.

“Um,” says Viktor.

“Are you drunk?” Yuuri asks – another automatic response. Although now he’s fractionally more awake, he knows that Viktor hadn’t planned on going to any parties this weekend.

“Ha. No,” Viktor says, “not this time. Yuuri, I –” there is another pause. A small noise, caught in the back of Viktor’s throat.

“Yuuri,” he says, “I need – can you come over?”

Yuuri pulls his phone away from his ear, glances at the time.

“Viktor, it’s two am.”

“I know,” Viktor says. Yuuri rubs at his eyes with the back of his free hand and listens to the silence.

“Viktor,” Yuuri asks, “are you okay?”

“I fucked up,” he replies, after another indeterminable pause. It’s hard to tell with the bad quality of the audio, but Yuuri thinks his voice sounds thick. He is properly awake instantly, sitting up and holding his blankets to his chest as he presses his phone closer to his ear.

“Okay,” he tells Viktor, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thanks,” Viktor says.

“Do you need me to stay on the line?” Yuuri asks. He’s already moving, stumbling out of bed. He pauses before he turns on his bedroom light though.

It _is_ two in the morning. He can’t exactly get Mari or his parents to drive him to Viktor’s house at this hour – whatever’s going on, it’s none of their business. And besides, they’re not his personal chauffeurs. Not for the first time in recent weeks, Yuuri wishes he knew how to drive.

“No,” Viktor says, “I’ll be okay, I just. I just need you I guess,” he laughs. Yuuri knows that there’s no humour in it.

“Okay,” Yuuri says again, “I’m on my way now.”

“Thanks,” Viktor says, and the line goes dead.

Yuuri pulls a hoodie over his head, tugs on a mis-matched pair of socks. He isn’t keen on the idea of literally running to Viktor’s house in the middle of the night, but he doesn’t really have a choice. It’s only about 4 kilometres – he can be there in twenty minutes.

He slips out of the house like a ghost and sets off at a good pace. The streets are deathly quiet, dark and still. The only light is from the streetlights he passes beneath. The sky is dark and clouded, so there is not even any moonlight to soften the orange glow. He runs with headphones in, but doesn’t listen to music tonight. He turns left out of his street, then left again, navigating his way through the tangle of suburban street that will lead him to Viktor’s subdivision.

There isn’t much room inside his head to wonder about why exactly Viktor’s called him out in the middle of the night – but he wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t really need him.

Yuuri slows to a walk as he reaches Harrogate. He tugs out his earphones and calls Viktor back. It is answered immediately.

“I’m almost there,” Yuuri pants, “I’m like…at the start of your street.”

“…did you run here?” Viktor asks.

“Yeah,” Yuuri says. For a long moment, Viktor doesn’t reply.

“Oh,” he says eventually, “I. Um. I’ll meet you at the front door.” He rings off again.

Viktor is definitely acting very oddly. Yuuri breaks into a jog again for the last few hundred metres as he rounds the corner and sees Viktor’s house. There’s only one light on upstairs. The rest of the house is dark, like the rest of the street, like the rest of the city.

Yuuri doesn’t see Viktor until he’s made it to the top of the driveway. He’s slumped against the column next to his front door, a hood over his head, holding his elbows. The suddenness of spotting him gives Yuuri a fright, and he makes a tiny ‘eep’ sound.

“Hey,” Viktor whispers.

“Hey,” Yuuri pants, “are you okay?”

“I don’t know yet,” Viktor says. This honest admission startles Yuuri, who straightens and steps carefully closer to Viktor. His boyfriend hesitates for a moment before letting Yuuri hug him. He collapses slightly and presses his face close into Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Yuuri says, “what happened?”

With a sigh, Viktor lets Yuuri go and steps back, scrubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“I’ll show you,” he says quietly before turning and leading the way into the house.

In the darkness, the interior of the house seems unfamiliar. Viktor shuts the door behind him and jogs up the stairs. Yuuri trails his fingers along the wall as he follows, needing the tactility to keep his bearings and his balance.

After that the fluorescents in Viktor’s bathroom seem uncomfortably bright. Yuuri screws up his eyes and for a moment cannot see anything at all. When his vision clears, Viktor is standing in front of him. He’s wearing a navy blue hoodie that is far too small for him and grey pyjama pants. In the white light, his face is paler than usual. He’s running his index finger over his lip again and again in a nervous tic.

“I,” Viktor says. He turns away, turns back, takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes. Pushes the hood back off his head.

Yuuri only barely manages to suppress a gasp. Viktor has cut off his hair. It hangs about ear length now, falling across his face in jagged swathes. In the obnoxious light, it is even more shocking. Viktor doesn’t open his eyes. He holds tightly to the collar of his hoodie and bites his lip.

When Yuuri doesn’t say anything, he cautiously opens one eye and then the other.

“I fucked up,” he says again, slightly sheepishly.

Yuuri knows that it is not the hair itself which is the reason that Viktor called him. There is something else going on. Something else has broken Viktor’s heart. Tentatively, Yuuri raises a hand. Viktor thinks he is going to touch his hair and stiffens, but when Yuuri brushes his fingertips across Viktor’s cheekbone he relaxes and turns his face into Yuuri’s touch. He lets out a shaky little inhalation.

Gradually the two move closer together until they end up sitting on the floor. Yuuri sits with his back against the wall next to the vanity. Viktor sits opposite him, slumped forward so his head is resting on Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri doesn’t quite dare to touch Viktor’s hair, but he rubs his back and waits for Viktor to be ready to tell him about it.

“So, you know those emails I told you about,” Viktor says at last.

“God,” Yuuri says quietly. His heart is a lead bullet sinking into his stomach.

“I know – I _know_ I shouldn’t have responded,” Viktor says, “but I’m so sick of it!” He bangs his head once against Yuuri’s chest, but calms when Yuuri strokes his shoulders. With a sigh, he scoots closer so he can wrap his arms around Yuuri’s waist.

“You didn’t tell me you were still getting those,” Yuuri says quietly.

“I wasn’t,” Viktor says. His voice is muffled by Yuuri’s shirt, “this one was from a new address.”

“What did it say?” Yuuri asks carefully. Viktor doesn’t respond for a long while.

“I don’t want you to see it,” he says eventually, “it’s pretty bad. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Yuuri echoes. There is an air of the surreal about this whole thing – maybe it’s the whir of the overhead fan, maybe it’s the stillness of the hour, maybe it’s just that Viktor seems to have cracked right down the middle and Yuuri doesn’t know what to _do_.

“I just,” Viktor sighs, “I replied, right? I said what the hell, why do you care so much, leave me alone, but then…” a tremor rocks his whole body. Yuuri tugs him closer instinctively, feeling again that fierce urge to protect.

“Please show me,” Yuuri says, “I need to understand.”

Viktor sighs. There is a long silence. Then he pushes himself back from Yuuri and digs his phone out of his pocket. He unlocks it and passes it to Yuuri before curling in on himself. Yuuri keeps a hand on Viktor’s shoulder as he goes to Gmail. It’s right at the top – the subject line is bad enough. Yuuri pauses for a second before he opens it. Viktor is munching on his nails, glancing between Yuuri and the phone in his hand.

Yuuri doesn’t know what he expected, but the emails are…really quite horrific. He goes right to the top of the chain – the first is timestamped 12 hours ago at 2:13pm. It is the same sort of thing that Viktor mentioned as being included in the original emails, stuff about Viktor’s hair and feminine streak and sexuality. Viktor’s response is brief, and irate.

But then…

“Jesus,” Yuuri closes his eyes. If he keeps them closed long enough, maybe he’ll be able to un-see what he just read.

“Yeah,” Viktor says into his knee. He tries to pull his phone out of Yuuri’s hand, but Yuuri won’t let him.

“Viktor,” he says, “you should maybe, I don’t know, go to the police about this.”

“…you think?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri reads it through again. He can’t imagine hating anyone enough to send them death threats over email. It makes him feel sick – and this is from an impersonal perspective. If he lets himself think too much about how someone said this to Viktor, _his_ Viktor…

“Okay. Yeah. If you think so,” Viktor says quietly.

Yuuri lets him take the phone at last. Viktor slides it across the tiled floor. It comes to a stop underneath the window, and there it stays. Viktor and Yuuri sit in silence for a moment. Viktor tugs on his hair once or twice, and then sighs.

“How do I fix this?” he asks Yuuri, gesturing to it. Yuuri thinks for a second.

“My sister used to have trichotillomania,” he says slowly, “the salon she went to is really good at fixing things at short notice. I could get the address for you?”

“Yeah,” Viktor says, “that would be good. You’ll come with me right?”

“Of course,” Yuuri says immediately. He wants so badly to touch Viktor, check him over, make sure he’s okay, but he doesn’t know…

“Can I touch you?” he asks cautiously. Viktor looks up at him.

“Mmn,” he nods, and slides over until he’s sitting next to Yuuri again. He tips forward until his head is in Yuuri’s lap, face pressed into Yuuri’s thigh. They sit like that for a long time. Yuuri is on the verge of slipping into an uneasy doze when Viktor suddenly speaks.

“I’m still unapologetic,” he says.

“Hmphn?”

“About you,” Viktor clarifies. He sits up properly, propping himself against the tile and wincing when the cold touches his skin.

When Yuuri still looks blank, Viktor sighs.

“Do you remember,” he says, “after our fight that first time, when I said I was unapologetic?”

“Oh,” Yuuri is properly awake now, and nods, “yes, I remember.”

“Well, I still am,” Viktor says. He looks a little more like his usual self now, like all the colour that had bled out of him has been blended back in.

“Me too,” Yuuri says, “not unapologetic about me, I mean, unapologetic about you. About us. And…I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

“How could you have?” Viktor frowns, “no one can really protect themselves from that sort of shit.”

“No,” Yuuri agrees, “but I’m still mad about it.”

“Yeah,” Viktor shrugs, “me too. I think. Or I will be.”

“You will be,” Yuuri agrees, “you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

“And no one who ever knew _you_ would say that you’re a weak person,” Viktor adds. Cautiously, Yuuri reaches across to Viktor’s face. Viktor leans into his touch, letting Yuuri trace his fingers across his cheeks, nose, closed eyes. Viktor moves forward with a sudden urgency and kisses him hard. He pulls on Yuuri’s hair so that his head bangs against the wall. The impact makes Yuuri gasp, and Viktor uses this opportunity to bite down on his lip. This is a sudden nerve exposed in Viktor, a sudden jagged edge torn free from beneath his calm exterior. This is not something that he would ever express in words, or even in physicality – it is the sharp corners that pain knocks free, every now and again.

Yuuri kisses him back, brushing his hands up and down Viktor’s back and sides, until the other boy calms down and at last pulls away, resting his forehead against Yuuri’s. They both struggle for breath, pressed against each other, sharing the same narrow air.

“Sorry,” Viktor whispers.

“Don’t ever be sorry, please,” Yuuri says. Viktor’s mouth quirks slightly despite itself at Yuuri’s politeness. He moves back, repositions himself so he can curl up with his head in Yuuri’s lap again. He asks Yuuri to stroke his hair.

It feels a little strange to Yuuri now. Although Viktor’s hair hasn’t been long all the time since year nine, it has been in the entire time that Yuuri has been allowed to touch it. But it is still the same, even if it is shorter – still fine and soft like strands of silver silk.

“You still think I’m pretty, right?” Viktor asks.

Yuuri still thinks that Viktor is the most beautiful person, the most beautiful thing, in the entire universe.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Good,” Viktor whispers into his skin. Maybe Yuuri isn’t supposed to hear it. Maybe he is.

 

When day has broken, Yuuri lends Viktor his hoodie so he can wear it instead of his younger brother’s, and they head out to the mall. The hairdressers at the salon don’t ask questions, they just fix it. They do a good job too. Viktor suits shorter hair just as much as he suits long hair, and Yuuri can see already that he’s going to enjoy having unimpeded kissing access to Viktor’s throat.

When he tells Viktor this, the other boy just laughs and likens him to a vampire. He is feeling a lot better this morning – he has resolved to tell his parents about the emails that evening, and for now he is comfortable just being with Yuuri, clearing up the mess together.

When the hairdresser goes to get a mirror to show Viktor the back of his haircut, Yuuri acts impulsively. He leans forward and presses a light kiss to the top of Viktor’s head. When he pulls back, he can see Viktor’s face in the mirror. He’s gone slightly pink, and his mouth is a little round ‘o’ of surprise. It’s very endearing.

“Yuuri!” he says. Yuuri shrugs, and Viktor smiles. It isn’t quite his usual wide-mouthed grin, but the soft curve of his lips is genuine all the same.

The hairdresser returns with the mirror and Viktor examines the back of his head. He is then released from the unattractive black smock, and they are free to go. Viktor pauses at the doorway, looking out at the busy mall. He glances down at his hands, and then across at Yuuri. It is a question that Yuuri has difficulty translating until Viktor tentatively holds his hand out towards him.

Yuuri pauses. He is used to being casually intimate with Viktor now – at school and at home and with their friends, Viktor is all over him, all the time. He’s used to holding hands, to having Viktor’s arm around his shoulder or his waist, to Viktor yelling about him at the mall or in the park. But since last night, things feel a little more tenuous. Yuuri is a little more afraid.

It costs him something to admit this to Viktor. But Viktor just nods.

“I know,” he says quietly, “I am too. But that kind of pisses me off actually,” he tosses his hair – it is the same old gesture, made new by the fact that now the flick of his head just jolts his fringe out of his eyes. His eyes are glinting, coldly determined. Yuuri reaches across and takes his hand.

“Oh,” Viktor is slightly startled, “Yuuri, I didn’t mean to pressure you…”

“You didn’t,” Yuuri says, “trust me.”

“Okay,” Viktor says. His smile is soft as he squeezes Yuuri’s hand tightly. He doesn’t take a breath before he opens the door, doesn’t mark the change, does not demonstrate that this is anything out of the ordinary. He merely shoulders the door open and strolls out into the mall, Yuuri at his side. They are just holding hands like any other couple, and nobody even looks twice.

Yuuri glances across at Viktor as they walk, and this time when Viktor smiles it is his usual happy grin.

When they pass a stationery shop, Viktor tugs Yuuri to a stop.

“Let’s go in here,” he says, “they have cool stuff, and I want to get something for Yurochka.”

Yuuri follows Viktor in. The store is relatively new, and he hasn’t been in here since it first opened. It’s large and quite dimly lit, and it is indeed filled with cool stuff. Viktor drags him across to look at a display of cartoon cat objects - there is coat hanger with a tiger on it which Viktor thinks his brother would like, and a portable iPhone charger which Yuuri picks up to have another look at.

The store is quiet today – they are the only customers, and this is perhaps why Yuuri is not embarrassed by what happens next. He is only half listening to the song playing over the shop’s sound system, but it has a catchy beat and he finds that he is swaying his hips without even thinking about it. Viktor notices this, and points it out with a laugh.

“I love this song,” he says when he realises what song is playing, and puts his arms out and starts dancing around and around. Yuuri reaches out, takes Viktor’s hands, pulls him close and then dips him back. Viktor reacts instinctively, tucking himself close to Yuuri and softening his body so that he flops backwards and then upright again. As the song enters a bridge, Viktor bounces up on his toes and spins himself out, in, out, in. Viktor lip-synchs along with the lyrics, fluttering his eyelashes jokingly at Yuuri. They are standing close, in a shop, in public, and Viktor is all glitter and lightning and Yuuri feels him like he feels adrenaline – a sudden rush to the heart that makes everything about him faster, better, brighter.

He pulls Viktor close again, twirls him out. Viktor goes up on his tiptoes and laughs, comes back in and pulls Yuuri backwards so they can dance around one of the displays. The song ends and Yuuri tucks himself up against Viktor’s side. They are both laughing, light and carefree and happy. The girl standing behind the till gives them a round of applause and Viktor bows to her, and then he goes back and buys the coat hanger for his brother. Yuuri stands back and stares at Viktor, and tries to work out what to do with the fact that he is in love.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri isn’t there to witness how Viktor’s friends react to his haircut. However, it doesn’t seem to go down well, because at the start of lunch Viktor comes over to him at the fire escape. Yuuri has told his friends a little of what happened, so they don’t react with visible surprise when Viktor appears.

Viktor stuffs his hands in his blazer pockets and shivers down into his scarf.

“How do you guys sit out here?” he asks, “it’s so cold!”

“I agree,” Leo says, “but these weird winter children refuse to go inside!”

“But you’re Russian,” Phichit says to Viktor.

“In name only,” Viktor grins, “I’ve become de-acclimatised. Hey, Yuuri, can I borrow you?”

“Yep,” Yuuri lets Viktor tug him to his feet and follows Viktor around the corner.

“I’m antsy,” Viktor announces, “do you want to go on an adventure with me?”

“Where to?” Yuuri asks doubtfully, “the back of the field?”

“Come out to lunch with me,” Viktor suggests.

“But – I’m only a year twelve,” Yuuri says blankly. The year thirteens are allowed to leave school at lunchtime or during their free periods, but any student of a younger year caught doing such a thing would get into a lot of trouble. Viktor just shrugs.

“No one will care,” he says, “trust me!”

“Well…” Yuuri wavers. Viktor widens his eyes and blinks down at him, in his best puppy impression. It is remarkably effective, probably because it’s completely adorable.

“Fine,” Yuuri sighs, “but I’ll kill you if I get caught!”

“We won’t get caught!” Viktor laughs.

“Famous last words,” Yuuri says over his shoulder as he goes to get his bag, “do you remember when we got stopped driving back from that ice skating date?!”

“Nah, that was fine,” Viktor says, “did we get a ticket? No!”

“Only because there was a convenient road accident,” Yuuri reminds him. This is the part of the conversation which his friends overhear.

“Sorry, what?” Leo says, exchanging a slightly alarmed glance with Guang-Hong.

Viktor launches into a retelling of the adventure. Yuuri has to drag him away by the sleeve, reminding him that if they actually want to have time to eat, they’d better leave now.

Yuuri is slightly tense all the way to Viktor’s car, which is parked one street over from the back gate of the school. But no one stops them, or even looks twice. Once they’re in the car, he relaxes.

“Where are we going?” he asks Viktor.

“I don’t know,” Viktor shrugs, “there’s a café at five cross roads that does nice coffee.”

“Viktor, we’re out for _lunch_ ,” Yuuri reminds him.

“So?” Viktor glances across at him with a wink, “we can multitask, right? Lunch _and_ a coffee date!”

Luckily the café is close to school, and there is a convenient carpark right outside. Viktor must parallel park to get into it (Yuuri gnaws at his knuckles nervously the entire time). He parks a mile away from the curb.

“It’s inside the line though, so it’s fine,” Viktor observes ruefully as they head into the café.

“Still a terrible parking job,” Yuuri observes.

“Um, you can criticise my parking when and only when you start driving for yourself,” Viktor says blithely.

“Yeah,” Yuuri says slowly, “I wanted to talk to you about that, actually.”

Viktor looks over at him with interest. They order coffee in takeaway cups, and get muffins to go, but then sit at a table to eat and drink what they can before they need to go back to school.

“So,” Yuuri pulls bits of sugar off of his blueberry muffin, “I think I’m going to learn to drive?”

“What’s brought that on?” Viktor asks, “I’m happy though! I’ll miss driving you around,” he sighs. Yuuri smiles tightly.

“Well, that’s the thing,” he says, “you won’t always be around to be my personal chauffeur.”

Viktor frowns at him over the rim of his cup.

“What?” he says, “you make it sound like I’m about to die or something!”

“No,” Yuuri rolls his eyes and pretends he doesn’t see Viktor smiling into his drink. “I just meant when you go away to drama school next year. It wouldn’t really be fair to expect you to always come up to see me, you know? I want to be able to drive to see you too.”

“Huh,” Viktor says softly. He lowers his cup, so Yuuri can see his smile.

“And I guess,” Yuuri continues thoughtfully, “it would probably be useful. It would probably have been better if I had been able to drive to your house in the middle of the night, instead of having to run.”

“All good reasons,” Viktor concedes. He puts his coffee down, squishes down the top of his muffin with restless fingers.

“It’s really sweet,” he says eventually, “that you would do that for me. I never thanked you, for literally running to my house.”

Yuuri reaches out takes Viktor’s hand. They link fingers, and both look down at their clasped hands resting on the table.

“Viktor, I,” Yuuri pauses. Ever since his revelation on the weekend, confession has been on the tip of his tongue. He wants to tell Viktor that he loves him, wants to tell everyone, wants to shout it from the rooftops – and really, that would be easier. He could spray paint it in neon orange on the side of a building: I love Viktor Nikiforov, and that would be easier, less nerve-wracking that telling Viktor in person. He’s just not _good_ at telling, but the problem with this is that he doesn’t know how to _show_ it. Or…maybe he has shown it, but it’s just too big for drama performances and creative dates and late-night runs through the sleeping streets.

They have been together for some time now. Yuuri doesn’t want it to be too soon, doesn’t want to mess up their equilibrium by revealing himself to be more invested in their relationship than Viktor is. But the truth is heavy on his tongue, and he needs Viktor to know, needs to bite the bullet regardless of the iron tang of trepidation. He takes a deep breath.

“I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I need you to know that I love you.”

Almost despite himself, he tenses. Viktor blinks at him, and then shakes his head slightly. There is a smile unfurling at the corners of his mouth.

“Yuuri,” he says, “you know I love you too.”

“Wait – what?”

“I told you,” Viktor says, and then frowns, “didn’t I?”  
“ _Did_ you?”

“The night of _that_ party,” Viktor pauses, and then grimaces, “but I guess you don’t remember?”

Yuuri is floored.

“No,” he says, “I don’t remember, or I…” but he pauses then, as realisation finally makes itself clear. Viktor loves him too.

Yuuri swears under his breath as he relaxes into an exhalation.

“I’m so glad,” Viktor laughs, reaching for his coffee to take another generous mouthful, “I was so worried you didn’t love me back!”

And how strange is it, to be having such a momentous conversation as this, so lightly and so easily, in a coffee shop on a Monday afternoon? They should be getting back, and yet here they are, holding hands, smiling at each other like they have always smiled at each other – easily.

“Thank God we didn’t have this conversation at school,” Yuuri says, “that would have been too much.”

“Imagine,” Viktor shudders, “we’ve had enough relationship milestones at school already!”

Finally, they leave. Holding their coffees and each other’s hands, they stroll back across the street to the car. It is a clear day, and as they drive back to school, Yuuri looks across at Viktor. He is still the golden boy, still so vibrant – and yet he is more than that now. Yuuri has seen him at his worst and at his best, and Viktor has seen the same of him.

The song on the radio changes. It is the same song that had been playing months ago, when Viktor drove him home for the same time. Yuuri and Viktor lunge for the volume at the same time Viktor sits back with a laugh like daylight and lets Yuuri turn up the volume. Familiar chords fill the air.

“Full circle, huh?” Viktor yells to Yuuri over the sound of the music.

“Yeah,” Yuuri agrees, “but we can only go up from here!”

After all, there are some things that are too big to be completed alone. Sure, they have challenges ahead – exams are a few months away, and they will be separated soon enough, and there are other things in both of their lives that need to be dealt with, least of all the emails. But Yuuri can’t think of these things right now – he is too happy.

He loves Viktor, and Viktor loves him, and today, everything is beautiful.

                                                                                                                  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ta da!!!!! and we're done :)  
> find me on the blue hellsite at [elesssar](http://www.elesssar.tumblr.com)


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